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V 
























The Writers 

OF 

South Carolina 


With a Critical Introduction, Biographical 
Sketches, and Selections in 
Prose and Verse 


BY 

GEORGE ARMSTRONG WAUCHOPE, M. A., Ph. D. 

u 

Professor of English in the University of South Carolina, Editor of* 
“The Essays of Charles Lamb,” De Quincey’s “Confessions 
of an Opium-Eater,” Spenser’s “Faerie Queene,” etc. 


Columbia, S. C. 

THE STATE CO., PUBLISHERS 
1910 


\ op 


Copyright, 1910 
by 

The State Co. 





< C 
( C t 


C CL A 2 5 6 3 1 4 


TO 

THAT GOODLY COMPANY 
OF 

MEN AND WOMEN OF SOUTH CAROLINA 
WHO 

IN MAKING THE LITERATURE OF TODAY 
ARE NOBLY STRIVING 
TO PRESERVE OUR HERITAGE 
AND 

TO REALIZE OUR IDEALS 
THIS BOOK 

IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 







CONTENTS 


Page 

Preface 1 

The Writers of South Carolina : 7 

I. Literature in South Carolina 7 

II. The Charleston Magazines 11 

III. The Poets 15 

IV. The Orators 40 

V. The Novelists 53 

VI. The Historians 64 

VII. The Essayists 72 

Joseph Blyth Allston : 85 

“Stack Arms!” 86 

Charge of Hagood’s Brigade 86 

Washington Allston: 89 

Satan and His Thrall 89 

The Art of Michael Angelo 91 

The Angel and the Nightingale 92 

To Michael Angelo 95 

Joseph B. Brown: 96 

“Thalatta! Thalatta!” 96 

John Dickson Bruns : 97 

Our Christmas Hymn 97 

0 Temporal 0 Mores! 100 

The Foe at the Gates 102 

Howard Hayne Caldwell: 104 

A Dream of Maries 104 

Sonnet — On the Death of T. B. Anderson . . . 108 

Night on the Dismal Swamp 108 


vi 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Page 

John Caldwell Calhoun: Ill 

The Nature of Liberty 112 

The Sovereignty of the State 115 

Secession and Nullification 117 

Thomas Cooper : 120 

The Distribution of Wealth 121 

James Carroll Courtenay : 125 

Eclipse of the Sun, November, 1834 125 

William Crafts, Jr. : 127 

Love a Prisoner 127 

Love’s Benediction 128 

Clara Victoria Dargan : 129 

Then and Now 129 

John Davis : 131 

To the Whippoorwill 131 

Robert Means Davis: 132 

Octavius Theodore Porcher 133 

James Wood Davidson : 135 

Mrs. Ball’s The Jacket of Gray 135 

Francis Warrington Dawson : 138 

The Cash-Shannon Duel 139 

Samuel Henry Dickson : 141 

South Carolina 141 

I Sigh for the Land of the Cypress and Pine . . 142 

Anna Peyre Dinnies : 144 

The Wife 145 

The Greek Slave 146 

Carolina 147 

John Drayton : 149 

Battle with the Cherokee Indians in 1776 . . . 149 




CONTENTS Vii 

Page 

Stephen Elliott (1771-1830): 151 

The Variety of Nature 151 

Stephen Elliott (1806-1866) : 155 

The Battle of Manassas 156 

William Elliott: 159 

Hunting the Devil-Fish 159 

Caroline Howard Gilman: 165 

To the Ursulines 166 

Annie in the Graveyard 167 

The Colonel’s Clothes 168 

Narciso Gener Gonzales : 173 

Launching “The State” 174 

William John Grayson: 175 

Threescore Years and Seven 175 

The Slave and His Pastimes 177 

Alexander Gregg : 181 

A Tory Raid in South Carolina 181 

“Barton Grey/’ see George Herbert Sass. 

Thomas Smith GrimkG : 186 

LaFayette and Robert Raikes 186 

Laura Gwyn: 190 

The Valley Flower 190 

James Henry Hammond : 192 

Slavery in the Light of Political Science . . . 192 

Wade Hampton: 197 

Inaugural Address in 1876 198 

Paul Hamilton Hayne : 203 

Aspects of the Pines 204 

The Pine’s Mystery 205 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


viii 

Page 

A Dream of the South Wind 205 

The Woodland Phases 206 

By the Grave of Henry Timrod 207 

In Harbor 209 

A Jar of Honey 210 

Charles Colcock Hay : 213 

The Rose 213 

Samuel T. Hay : 215 

A Health to Old Virginia 215 

Robert Y. Hayne : 216 

South Carolina’s Devotion to the Union . . . 217 

The South Carolina Doctrine 221 

Susan Petigru King: 223 

A Lovers’ Quarrel 223 

Maximilian LaBorde : 229 

Thornwell as Scholar and Teacher 229 

Henry Laurens : 233 

A Patriotic Toast 233 

A Prisoner in the Tower 234 

Mary Elizabeth Lee : 235 

The Poets 236 

The Spring 237 

The Last Place of Sleep 238 

Hugh Swinton LegarE : 240 

The Study of the Classics 241 

Character of Demosthenes 245 

Dining with Royalty 247 

James Mathewes LegarU : 249 

The Reaper 249 

To a Lily 250 

Haw-Blossoms 251 


CONTENTS 


IX 


Page 

Tallulah 253 

On the Death of a Kinsman 254 

To Anne 255 

Flowers in Ashes 257 

Francis Lieber : 259 

Vox Populi Yox Dei 259 

John Henry Logan : 263 

Habits of the Carolina Panther 263 

Augustus Baldwin Longstreet : 265 

Dr. Moses Waddel 266 

The Willington Academy 267 

Louisa Susannah McCord : 269 

The Voice of Years 270 

Edward McCrady: 273 

The Battle of King’s Mountain 273 

George McDuffie: 278 

Character of Robert Y. Havne 279 

Carlyle McKinley: 282 

Sapelo . • 283 

South Carolina, 1876 286 

At Timrod’s Grave 287 

The Toilers 289 

In Spring 289 

Elias Marks : 291 

Pageant Ushering in the Queen of May . . . . 292 

William Maxwell Martin : 296 

A Man Dies Not Till His Work is Done . . . . 296 

The Sunset Prayer 298 

Alexander Beaufort Meek : . . 299 

Land of the South 300 

The Mocking Bird 301 


X 


THE WRITERS OF 1 SOUTH CAROLINA 


Henry Junius Nott : 303 

The Dwarf’s Duel 304 

Benjamin Morgan Palmer : 308 

The Present Crisis 308 

James Louis Petigru : 313 

Semi-Centennial of South Carolina College . . 313 

James Johnston Pettigrew : 319 

The Cathedral of Seville 319 

Catharine Gendron Poyas: 322 

The Year of Grief— 1852 323 

Good Night 325 

Autumnal Musings 326 

William Campbell Preston : 327 

The Eloquence of Legard 327 

David Ramsay: 331 

The Defence of Fort Moultrie 331 

Augustus Julian Requier: 336 

Ashes of Glory 336 

Only a Dream 338 

Robert Barnwell Rhett: 339 

Eulogy of John C. Calhoun 339 

George Herbert Sass, “Barton Grey” : 342 

In a King-Cambyses Vein 344 

The Confederate Dead 345 

Joan Mellish 346 

Robert Edward Lee 347 

Mary Palmer Shindler : 349 

The Faded Flower 349 

William Hayne Simmons : 351 

The Fountain of Youth 352 


CONTENTS 


XI 


Page 

William Gilmore Simms : . 354 

Defence of a Block House 357 

A Carolina Cypress Swamp 364 

The Lost Pleiad 365 

Song in March 366 

The Burden of the Desert 367 

The Swamp Fox 368 

Frederick William Thomas : 370 

’Tis Said That Absence Conquers Love . . . .370 

James Henley Thornwell: 372 

The College and the State 373 

Henry Timrod: 377 

The Cotton Boll 378 

Carolina 383 

Charleston 385 

The Lily Confidante 387 

Magnolia Cemetery 388 

Spring . . 389 

William Henry Timrod : 392 

To Time — The Old Traveler 392 

William Henry Trescot : . . . . . . . : . 394 

Diplomats of the Revolution 395 

Character of Charles Cotesworth Pinckney . . . 397 

Inscription on a Confederate Monument . . . 398 

Mary Scrimgeour Whitaker : 401 

The Flower, the Star, the Rill 402 

Samuel Wilds: 403 

Sentence of John Slater 403 

Eliza Wilkinson: 407 

Adventure at an Assembly Ball 407 

Leroy F. Youmans: 410 

Eulogy of Wade Hampton 411 

Index 413 


































* 




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• . 
















































































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: \ ■ 

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PREFACE 


I trust that both the casual reader and the special student 
will find this book of selections from the writers of South 
Carolina a thing of sufficient interest and value to prove “its 
own excuse for being.” To those, however, who yet believe 
that writers are as scarce in the South as snakes in Ireland, 
it should be said that this work has been undertaken in no 
narrow, sectional spirit. It is evident that the permanent 
worth of a study such as this must depend upon the mainte- 
nance of relative values, and that this result can be attained 
only by the adoption of sound critical standards. In the 
interest of historic truth, therefore, as well as of the writers 
themselves, I have endeavored not to overrate the literary 
merits of any one, but to form a just estimate of each, having 
always in mind that larger national literature of which the 
individual’s work, however modest, is a part. 

This garnering of the choicest literary output of a single 
State may to some seem a mere appeal to local pride or at 
least an expenditure of effort in a too restricted field. But 
a fair consideration will show that the work may be justified 
on several grounds. From the wider point of view it may be 
regarded as a chapter in the literary history of America. 
Does not the long-neglected Charleston group of writers, for 
example, call for as close and detailed study as has been 
given the Knickerbocker school or the Hartford Wits? The 
more one becomes acquainted with the books on American 
literature, the more one realizes from the disproportion of 
space given to the South as compared with that assigned to 
the North that literary appreciation must begin at home. Is 
it to the discredit of New England that her most insignificant 
poetaster has received painstaking though ill-deserved criti- 


2 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


cal consideration, or is it to the credit of the South that some 
of her greatest writers are little more than names north of 
the Potomac? It is certainly a matter of regret that the 
works of many of our gifted men of letters have been allowed 
to remain so long lost and forgotten in the pages of defunct 
magazines and rare books. Surely all the fault should not 
be laid at the door of our Northern critics if, as in a recent 
important literary history of America, thirty-five pages are 
vouchsafed to Southern writers (fifteen of which are devoted 
to Poe, only two each to Simms and Timrod, and one to 
Hayne), while five hundred pages are given to authors of the 
other sections. In literature the proverb of the prophet not 
without honor is reversed, and the moral of the old fable of 
the man bestride the lion holds good. Each State must first 
discover and show a proper appreciation of her own men of 
genius, and national or international attention will follow. 

The purpose of this volume is, first, to define more clearly 
and to illustrate by suitable selections a few figures in the 
literature of South Carolina which should fill a wider horizon 
in our national literature. The Palmetto State has made a 
splendid contribution to the political and military history 
of the country; her share in its literary history is almost 
equally important and should be a source of just pride and 
gratulation. It aims also to rescue from oblivion a larger 
number of minor writers who have made a small but very 
creditable addition to the literature of America, and who did 
much under unfavorable conditions to keep alive an interest 
in pure letters by their example, culture, and influence. It 
offers, too, a means of calling attention to the great service 
rendered by that long succession of magazines and other 
periodicals that were born and died in Charleston, and that, 
poorly supported and short-lived as they were, furnished an 
organ for a few professional writers, and were a stimulus to 
literary productiveness on the part of a large number of 


PREFACE 


3 


amateurs. Who can deny that American literature is far 
richer for many a fugitive lyric or occasional sketch that 
first saw the light in those faded and musty pages? 

This book aspires, of course, to an humble but, we hope, 
useful place in the library of home, school, and town. In 
the old-fashioned phrase, the gentle reader is here presented 
with a volume of elegant and instructive extracts, which, 
though sometimes taken from their original connection, still 
retain an interest and significance of their own. The uses 
to which such a work may be put are numerous. In the 
family circle it will serve as an anthology of choice readings 
in stately or idiomatic English on a variety of pleasing and 
important subjects. In the school it may be used as supple- 
mentary reading matter, furnishing material for criticism 
and topical exercises. The original sources which it con- 
tains will incidentally give our young people an insight into 
the spirit of historic times and enable them to form a first- 
hand acquaintance with the thoughts and experiences of their 
forefathers. To book clubs and teachers’ associations it will 
be a convenient manual of reference, suggesting starting 
points for special investigation, reports, and discussions. 

An explanation should here be made in regard to the rules 
of selection which have been followed. It has seemed best 
not to include the work of any writer still living, though 
many such authors are mentioned in the critical and bio- 
graphical sections. This principle was adopted with regret 
mainly from considerations of space, but partly because of 
the impossibility of avoiding invidious distinctions. The 
embarrassment was usually not in finding suitable selections, 
but in choosing from the wealth of material. Another diffi- 
culty was more serious and necessitated some arbitrary de- 
cisions on the part of the editor. A number of the writers 
owed allegiance by nativity or residence to two or more 
States, and the line had to be drawn somewhere. Some have 


4 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


been included, no doubt, to whom Georgia, North Carolina, 
and other States will lay superior claim. This situation is 
not wholly to be regretted, and is, indeed, merely an evidence 
of our solidarity as a nation. Let us be thankful that there 
is no Chinese wall about South Carolina, and hope that she 
will ever continue to maintain with her sister States this 
beautiful reciprocity of intellect. Seven Grecian cities 
proudly claimed to be the birthplace of Homer : why should 
not we similarly have our pretty controversies over Long- 
street, Meek, Requier, Pettigrew, and others? I have felt at 
liberty to include any native of the State, also others like 
McDuffie, Preston, and Mrs. Gilman, who were born else- 
where but who considered themselves South Carolinians by 
adoption, and still a few others who, like the foreign-born 
Cooper, Lieber, and Dawson, produced their most important 
work while residents of the State. In general, I have re- 
garded the birthplace of a piece of literature more important 
than that of the author. 

In the preparation of the selections I have received prompt 
and gracious assistance, often at much personal sacrifice, 
from a large number of friends, to all of whom I desire to 
make my grateful acknowledgments. My special thanks are 
due Mr. Ambrose E. Gonzales, of Columbia, without whose 
constant encouragement and generous cooperation the work 
could not have been successfully carried through. To Hon. 
William Ashmead Courtenay, 1 Colonel August Kohn, and 
Doctor J. W. Babcock my indebtedness is great for the use 
of their fine collections of rare books and pamphlets. I must 
also express my great obligations to Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn, 
of Charleston, whose scholarly “History of Literature in 
South Carolina,” contributed to The News and Courier, of 
Charleston, in 1903, has been frequently consulted, and to 
Professor William P. Trent, of Columbia University, whose 
“Southern Writers” (1905), the most recent and authorita- 


1 Died March 17, 1908. 


PREFACE 


5 


tive work on the subject, has furnished many valuable sug- 
gestions. My indebtedness to Davidson’s “Living Writers 
of the South” (1869), Simms’s “War Poetry of the South” 
(1867), and other works on Southern literature, is specific- 
ally acknowledged elsewhere. It is a pleasure also to record 
the kind assistance rendered in the way of critical advice by 
my colleague, Professor Yates Snowden, whose knowledge of 
South Carolina history and literature is nothing short of 
encyclopaedic, by Mr. A. S. Salley, Jr., the accomplished his- 
torian, and by Hon. John J. McMahan, formerly State Super- 
intendent of Education. I would also express my thanks 
for the many courtesies extended to me by Miss Ellen M. 
FitzSimons, librarian of the Charleston Library Society, and 
by Miss Margaret H. Rion and Miss Margaret LeConte, of the 
Library of the University of South Carolina. Among those 
who have assisted by the loan of rare volumes and pamphlets 
or by replying to letters of inquiry should be mentioned Miss 
Katharine B. Trescot, Mrs. C. T. Dunham, of Massachusetts, 
Rev. Thomas Cary Johnson, of Virginia, Mr. Joseph N. Alls- 
ton, of McCormick, South Carolina, Mr. A. Markley Lee, Hon. 
Joseph W. Barnwell, Mrs. Washington Finley, Mr. William 
B. Foster, and Mr. Wilmot D. Porcher, all of Charleston; 
Mrs. Sarah LeConte Davis, Mr. Julian A. Selby, Dr. James 
Woodrow, Professor Patterson Wardlaw, Mr. E. H. Cain, 
Professor Edwin L. Green, Mr. Charles J. Colcock, Pro- 
fessor F. Horton Colcock, and Dr. Stanhope Sams, all of 
Columbia, and Miss Carrie Margaret Reaves, Editor of the 
Winthrop College Tatler of 1901, which furnished a basis 
for my bibliography of South Carolina writers. It is a 
pleasure to record my thanks also to the several publishers 
who hold the copyright of some of the authors, and who 
have generously allowed the use of the selections from their 
works. 


2— W 


6 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Such a work as this must necessarily be incomplete, and 
there are probably errors of fact or of judgment which have 
crept in unawares. The author would, therefore, be grate- 
ful to have his attention called to inaccuracies and omissions 
which any reader may discover. 


G. A. W. 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

I 

LITERATURE IN SOUTH CAROLINA 

The lack of interest on the part of our people in past years 
in our splendid literary heritage is to be deeply regretted. 
Recently, however, many gratifying signs of an awakening 
interest have appeared. Many valuable collections of books 
and pamphlets by South Carolinians have been made at great 
trouble and outlay by patriotic citizens interested in the 
preservation of the literary records of the State. Numerous 
rare volumes have thus been brought to light. The work of 
the Timrod Memorial Association, the appearance of Mr. 
Ludwig Lewisohn’s scholarly investigations into our literary 
history, and other studies that have from time to time ap- 
peared in various periodicals, are so many indications of the 
changing attitude of the people on this subject. 

The literature produced in South Carolina, however, has 
not as yet received adequate attention in the histories of 
American literature, though a few critics like Mr. Hamilton 
Wright Mabie have discovered the fact that Timrod, Hayne, 
and Simms must be seriously reckoned with in any just 
account of our national literary development. As far back 
as 1868 the late James Wood Davidson, while preparing his 
“Living Writers of the South,” declared that this section had 
accomplished at least ten times as much in the realm of 
letters as the Northern compilers had given credit for. 1 
Though South Carolina has not taken as preeminent a part 
in the field of pure literature as in the making of the national 

1 See an article on Davidson by Col. John Peyre Thomas in The State of July 
26 , 1897 . 


8 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


history, she can lay claim to no inconspicuous share in the 
former. So far from insignificant, indeed, has been her lit- 
erary output that it has been asserted by more than one com- 
petent authority that down to the year 1870 South Carolina 
had made a more important contribution to national letters 
than any other State except Massachusetts. If in the ante- 
bellum period social, industrial, and political conditions in 
this State, as throughout the whole South, did not tend to 
foster and stimulate literary expression, to a far greater 
extent was this true during the Reconstruction era. Now, 
however, that the State has added to her great agricultural 
wealth that which flows from textile industries and commer- 
cial enterprise, we may expect to see her shortly enter upon 
an epoch of artistic and literary development which w T ill 
eclipse the achievements of any former time. 

Literature in South Carolina was a natural offshoot from 
that of the mother country. Unlike the literary origins of 
primitive races, which begin in popular ballads and epics 
handed down by oral tradition, our literature followed the 
same lines of development as the English. The literature of 
the royal province of South Carolina was distinctively imita- 
tive. As with our political history, it is the story of an effort 
to pass from a dependent to an independent existence. 

The student of the first century of our literature is im- 
pressed with the many signs of its vital connection with that 
of England. Our forefathers were indeed slower, on the 
whole, to sever the ties of a common language and literary 
traditions than those that were purely political. As we 
should expect, therefore, we find a peculiarly close relation 
between the literary development of South Carolina and the 
classical and romantic schools of expression in Great Britain. 
At first our writers were imitators, due to their artistic inex- 
perience, but after half a century of separate political exist- 
ence we begin to find a few who attained a considerable de- 


LITERATURE IN SOUTH CAROLINA 


9 


gree of originality in choice of subjects, style, and treatment. 
This marks the beginning of our literary independence, and 
at this point it becomes worthy of detached study. 

Before entering upon the consideration of individual 
authors certain fundamental facts should be emphasized in 
order that the reader may take a more intelligent view of 
the whole field. In the first place, the comity of race, lan-; 
guage, and principles which existed with peculiar closeness' 
between South Carolina and England is basic and must not 
be lost sight of for a moment. In the second place and as 
a natural sequence of the first, we are impressed with the 
fact that all the writers of the State were exceedingly sensi- 
tive to the influences of English literary standards and tra- 
ditions. And flowing from this, we observe, thirdly, that our 
prose follows for a century the conventional style and formal 
traditions of eighteenth century English prose, — the essay, 
the dignified and balanced phraseology of Doctor Johnson’s 
Rambler ; oratory, the sonorous and artificial periods of 
Burke’s grand parliamentary efforts ; and the novel, the sen- 
timent, geniality, and exaggeration of the early creators of 
romantic fiction. Fourthly, didactic and narrative verse is 
for the most part written in the conventional heroic couplet, 
while the lyric responds more quickly to the models furnished 
by contemporary English poetry. 

The literature produced by South Carolinians differs 
broadly in motive from that of Massachusetts; the former 
being essentially aesthetic or political, the latter ethical, phil- 
osophical, or religious, an eddy of the great transcendental 
movement. Both have love of nature in common, but the 
former prefers her brighter aspects, while the latter treats 
her gloomier side. All the influences of the New England 
civilization tended to make moralists and reformers, while 
those of the South as inevitably produced statesmen and sol- 
diers. Moreover, the civilization of South Carolina, like that 


10 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


of most agricultural countries, was oligarchic and aristo- 
cratic in character. Standards of culture and literary taste 
were maintained by a few thousand persons, upon whom de- 
pended the material support of writers and magazines. Pro- 
fessional authorship and literature of home production were 
apt to be discounted by wealthy planters and learned lawyers, 
most of whom were educated in English universities and 
imported their libraries from Europe. Agricultural condi- 
tions were unfavorable to the growth of large centers of 
population. This being distributed in the rural districts, 
failed to create literary centers, without which no people 
have ever been able to accomplish much in pure letters. 
Until the war for secession, political ability remained para- 
mount, for the highest rewards within the gift of the people 
went to the successful statesman. A writer in New England, 
on the other hand, was ordinarily more honored than a poli- 
tician. 

Most of the conditions favorable to the production of liter- 
ature were found in Charleston. As a center of wealth, taste, 
and culture, and the home of all the elegant refinements of 
life, this city did not yield precedence to Boston itself. Its 
bar was the most accomplished in America, and for several 
decades before and after the Revolution there were more 
college-bred men in Charleston and its environment than in 
all New England. The latest English books were promptly 
imported, and the finest libraries in the country were to be 
found in Charleston and at the planters’ seats near by. The 
young men of the best families were, according to custom, 
sent abroad for their education, and returned to conserve 
and illustrate foreign standards of elegance in their own 
writings. Hugh S. Regard, referring to the high average of 
culture in South Carolina, made this noteworthy statement in 
1827 : “Before and just after the Revolution many — perhaps 
it would be more accurate to say most — of our youth of opu- 


THE CHARLESTON MAGAZINES 


11 


lent families were educated at English schools and univer- 
sities. There can be no doubt their attainments in polite 
literature were very far superior to those of their contem- 
poraries at the North, and the standard of scholarship in 
Charleston was, consequently, much higher than in any other 
city on the continent.” 1 Further evidence in support of this 
statement is found in the writings of Dr. Ramsay, 2 John 
Drayton, 3 and others. A thorough study of the whole ques- 
tion was made by General Edward McCrady in his mono- 
graph on “Colonial Education in South Carolina” (1883), 
reprinted in Meriwether’s “History of Higher Education in 
South Carolina.” The number of libraries, magazines and 
newspapers that existed in the province may also be taken 
as a gauge of the education and general culture of the people. 
Professor Rivers states that there was a public library in 
Charleston as early as 1700. 4 The Charleston Library So- 
ciety was formed in 1748 for the acquisition of the latest 
magazines, pamphlets, and books, and is the oldest public 
library in the country, with the single exception of one in 
Philadelphia which was incorporated in 1742. 


II 

THE CHARLESTON MAGAZINES 

The existence of a long succession of magazines in Charles- 
ton must be estimated as an important factor in our literary 
history. Magazines are the best tangible evidence of the 
intellectual activity of a people, and may be accepted as a 


r Writings of Hugh 8. Legare, vol. II., p. 7. 

2 Ramsay’s History of South Carolina, vol. II., p. 358. 

3 Drayton’s Historical Sketch of South Carolina, p. 217. 

4 Rivers’s Sketch of the History of South Carolina, p. 231. 


12 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


fairly accurate gauge of the quality as well as the quantity 
of the literary output of a section. Judged by this standard 
the industry of the writers of Charleston down to about 1845 
was as great as that of the litterateurs of either Boston or 
New York. “A surprisingly large mass of literature,” says 
Mr. Lewisohn, “was produced in South Carolina between 
1825 and 1875, and is contained to a large extent in the 
various periodicals that existed in the city of Charleston 
from The Southern Review to The Nineteenth Century ” In 
the scholarly equipment, sheer mental force, and stylistic 
skill of their contributors several of these short-lived maga- 
zines compare without loss with the better supported peri- 
odicals of the North of the same period. A striking illus-' 
tration of this, taken at random, has been pointed out to me 
by Mr. A. S. Salley, Jr. The Southern Review for February, 
1829, contains articles by Hugh S. Legard, James L. Petigru, 
Robert Henry, Stephen Elliott, Thomas S. Grimke, Thomas 
Cooper, Henry Junius Nott, and others. In what single con- 
temporary number of The Atlantic Monthly or The North 
American Review can be found a more talented or distin- 
guished list of contributors? Not a contemporary issue of 
either one is nearly so rich in matter. And yet on account of 
adverse conditions already referred to, the Charleston pub- 
lication survived but four years, a fate similar to that of the 
more famous London Monthly, without which English litera- 
ture would be incalculably poorer. 

It is proper to mention here the interesting fact, men- 
tioned by McCrady, that anterior to the establishment of the 
earliest magazines, South Carolina with a white population 
of about sixty thousand in 1775 supported three newspapers, 
or one to every twenty thousand, while in the same year 
Massachusetts maintained but one newspaper for every fifty 
thousand inhabitants. The South-Carolina Gazette was 
founded in 1732, and with various suspensions and slight 


THE CHARLESTON MAGAZINES 


13 


changes of name continued until 1802. Its almost complete 
files are preserved in the Charleston Library. 1 The Charles- 
ton Courier was established in 1803, and in 1873 was consoli- 
dated with The Neivs, which had been established in August, 
1865. It has always kept up a high standard of literary excel- 
lence. The old Charleston Mercury (1821-1867) and The 
Southern Patriot (1812-1848) also deserve mention among 
the pioneer newspapers of the State. 

Among the earliest ventures in magazine literature were 
The Traiteur, which was edited by Henry Jackson as a 
monthly from October, 1795, till March, 1796, and The Vigil, 
a rare coffee-house type of periodical which appeared for six 
weekly numbers in the spring of 1798. During 1805 and 
1806 The Monthly Register and Review of the United States 
was published monthly in Charleston by Carpenter. The 
first serious effort to found a magazine was made in 1828 by 
Hugh S. Legare and Stephen Elliott, the botanist, and re- 
sulted in The Southern Review, a quarterly which continued 
for four years. It was followed by William Gilmore Simms’s 
first attempt to establish a first-class periodical, The South- 
ern Literary Gazette, a monthly which was begun in Septem- 
ber, 1828, and suspended publication about a year later. 
James Wright Simmons at first assisted in its management, 
but withdrew at the completion of the first volume of six 
numbers. The fact that “The Lost Pleiad” first appeared in 
its contents is alone enough to make it memorable. In 1832 
Langdon Cheves, an astute thinker and brilliant writer, pub- 
lished at intervals a sort of political organ called Occasional 
Reviews . The Cosmopolitan ran through only two numbers 
in 1833, and consisted for the most part of short stories. 
Mrs. Caroline H. Gilman had already established, on August 

1 See Marriage Notices in The South-Car olina Gazette and Its Successors , by A. S. 
Salley, Jr., and A Century of The Courier , by the same writer, in The News and 
Courier of April 20, 1904 (Centennial Edition). 


14 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


11, 1832, a successful weekly paper for children, which she 
called at first The Rosebud, or Youth’s Gazette, the name 
being afterwards variously modified. The editor was its chief 
contributor. With the issue for August 31, 1833, the name 
was changed to Southern Rose Bud, and with the issue for 
September 9, 1837, the name was again changed to The 
Southern Rose, which name it retained to its suspension sev- 
eral years later. The Southern Literary Journal, of which 
Simms was the leading contributor, was founded in 1835 by 
Daniel K. Whitaker, and existed until the forties. In July, 
1840, P. C. Pendleton, with Simms as co-editor, established 
The Magnolia, or Southern Appalachian, in Savannah, but 
it was taken to Charleston in July, 1842, with Simms as 
editor-in-chief. It passed out of existence in June, 1844. 
Longstreet’s famous “Georgia Scenes” and Henry’s stories 
and essays first appeared in its pages. The better known 
Southern Quarterly Review was begun in New Orleans by 
Whitaker in January, 1842, but was removed to Charles- 
ton in July, 1842, with James D. B. DeBow as associate 
editor. Succeeding editors were J. Milton Clapp (1847), 
Simms (1849), and Mortimer (1855). It was finally taken 
to Columbia in 1856 with James H. Thorn well as editor- 
in-chief. It had a notable list of contributors, among whom 
were F. A. Porcher, E. B. Bryan, William J. Grayson, 
Bishop Lynch, Robert W. Gibbes, A. B. Meek, Francis Lieber, 
Beverly Tucker, Commodore Maury, Henry T. Tuckerman, 
Mitchell King, Joel R. Poinsett, and William H. Trescot. 
The Chicora, “a weekly journal of belles-lettres and general 
intelligence,” after an existence of less than three months, 
was merged into The Magnolia. Among its contributors 
were Mary Elizabeth Lee, William W. Smith, Mrs. Stowe, 
Mrs. Sigourny, and Park Benjamin. Following closely came 
The Rambler, which purported to be “an abstract and brief 
chronicle of the times,” and was published by Doctor John 


THE POETS 


15 


B. Irving from October, 1843, till March, 1844. It combined 
the features of a tri-weekly newspaper with those of a 
more pretentious journal of literature and politics. The 
next in order was the magazine with the unwieldy name of 
The Southern and Western Monthly Magazine and Review, 
but which was popularly known as Simms’s Magazine. It 
was created by Simms in 1845, but was merged with The 
Southern Literary Messenger, of Richmond, in 1846. The 
editor, usually under the pen-name of “Adrian Beaufain,” 
wrote the greater portion of its articles. The best of all 
was Russell’s Magazine, which ran through six volumes 
from April, 1857, to March, 1860. It was founded at John 
Russell’s book-shop, where congregated all the literary folk 
of the city. Among its contributors were Paul H. Hayne 
and W. B. Carlisle, its co-editors, William G. Simms and 
Henry Timrod, John Dickson Bruns, James L. Petigru, 
Mitchell King, James M. Regard, Samuel H. Dickson, Wm. 
Porcher Miles, William J. Grayson, Bishop Lynch, and Pro- 
fessor Basil L. Gildersleeve. The last of the Charleston mag- 
azines was The Nineteenth Century, which was established 
by the Reverend C. E. Chichester in 1869, and discontinued in 
1872. 1 


Ill 

THE POETS 

The poets of South Carolina should be considered first not 
only for the intrinsic excellence and local interest of their 
work, but for the relative importance of their contribution 
to the poetry of the nation. Here the State has made her 
largest claim for attention in American literature, and any 

J For fuller information on this subject the/ reader is referred to a paper by 
Mr. A. S. Salley, Jr., on “South Carolina Magazines” in The Sunday News. 


16 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


comprehensive anthology must be the richer for the offering 
brought by her sweet singers. South Carolina still suffers, 
however, from the general neglect and isolation which have 
been the lot of the entire South. It is only within recent 
years that Edgar Allan Poe has been with any unanimity 
crowned by all sections the greatest poet artist that this 
country has produced. Similarly, Timrod and Hayne have 
not been recognized as two of the greatest native poets of 
America and have not, except in sporadic instances, received 
that careful study which is the due of even minor poets. Of 
course, no claim is here implied that South Carolina or any 
other State has given birth to a poet of the first or even of 
the second rank among the great masters of English song. 
Neither Timrod nor Hayne, however, has yet received the 
rank and honor due them as American men of letters. Be- 
sides these two, there is a group of poets of less importance 
but of quite meritorious accomplishment in verse, for each 
of whom, though now forgotten, we ask a secure, although 
humble, place in the poetical chronicles of the country. This 
second group contains the names of James Mathewes Legare, 
William John Grayson, Catharine Gendron Poyas, Carlyle 
McKinley, George Herbert Sass, and Mrs. Olive Tilford 
Dargan. A third group might be made up that would 
include a still larger number of those who have written 
genuine verse that will live and whose fame should not be 
confined to State boundaries. Prominent among these are 
Joseph Blyth Allston, Washington Allston, John Dickson 
Bruns, Howard Hayne Caldwell, William Crafts, Jr., Annie 
Peyre Dinnies, Mrs. Caroline A. Ball, Mrs. Caroline H. 
Gilman, Mr. William H. Hayne, Miss Mary Elizabeth Lee, 
Alexander B. Meek, Augustus J. Requier, William Gilmore 
Simms, Professor Yates Snowden, and Mr. Frank L. Stan- 
ton. Each one of these, together with a number of others, 
should be remembered for at least one lyric or other bit of 


THE POETS 


17 


verse which rises above the commonplace in thought, feeling 
and workmanship. 

Henry Timrod (1829-1867), as pathetically ill-fated in his 
life as in his death, has been even longer than his friend 
Hayne in receiving posthumous fame. This has been due to 
two causes: one, that he was in a peculiar sense the poet- 
laureate of the Confederacy, a fact which discredited his best 
work in the North; the other, that his poems were not acces- 
sible to the great American reading public until 1899. The 
second reason mentioned was not removed until the tardy 
appreciation of his own people resulted in the formation of 
the Timrod Memorial Association, which was largely due to 
the patriotic exertions of Mr. William A. Courtenay and 
others. Thus, despite the efforts of Hayne, the poet’s school- 
mate and life-long friend, who in 1873 made a slender collec- 
tion of Timrod’s poems and introduced them with a tender 
tribute to his memory, the poet remained for more than a 
quarter of a century unknown to the great body of our peo- 
ple. Since the memorial volume was issued, rapid progress 
has been made toward a general acquaintance with his 
poetry, but as it does not contain any of his prose writings 
and a considerable number of his poems, a complete edition 
with a fuller biography is desirable. He has not been, how- 
ever, at any time without recognition. As early as 1860 the 
New York Tribune said of his first thin book of verses: 

I “These poems are worthy of a wide audience and form a wel- 
come offering to the common literature of our country.” A 
few choice spirits in the North from time to time wrote of 
the South Carolina poet in terms of sincere admiration. Stod- 
dard declared Timrod to be “the ablest poet the South has 
ever produced”; Henry Austin, after comparing him with 
Pindar and Catullus, said: “Timrod presents in his small 
volume more quotable lines in proportion to the quantity 
than any writer since Byron”; Longfellow generously pre- 


18 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


dieted that the day would come when the South Carolinian’s 
poems would have a place in every cultivated home in the 
United States, and Bryant, Holmes, and Whittier uttered 
similar judicious praise. Notwithstanding such occasional 
recognition, his real worth remained unknown to both the 
general reader and the special student. Stedman, for exam- 
ple, in his “Poets of America” (1884), devoted only five lines 
to Timrod while giving fifty pages to Whitman. Equal neg- 
lect is observed in the critical works on American Literature 
by Richardson, Pancoast, Pattee, Noble, Painter, Beers, Hig- 
ginson, and Barrett Wendell. For the first time in 1892 he re- 
ceived serious and fair attention from a critic who had the ear 
of the nation. Professor William P. Trent wrote of him in his 
“Life of William Gilmore Simms” : “His German blood and 
his inherited qualities had given him a greater artistic endow- 
ment than any other Southern writer, save Poe, had been 
blessed with. He was able, except in the case of his sonnets, 
in which he evidently came under Simms’s influence, to con- 
trol himself; was able to devote time and patience to the 
polishing and perfecting of his verse ; and more than all, was 
able to distinguish between subjects that were proper and 
subjects that were alien to his art. Timrod possessed an 
imagination which, if not lofty and wide-embracing, was 
within its narrow range characterized by a singular inten- 
sity.” Thus was struck firmly and justly a note of criticism 
which has done much to dispel Northern misconception and 
is being more and more widely accepted. Mr. Mabie pro- 
nounces him “one of the truest lyric poets that has yet ap- 
peared in this country,” and Professor Wendell, whose elab- 
orate “Literary History of America” (1901) is notably inhos- 
pitable to Southern writers, grants Timrod “as fine, as true, 
and as simple a sense of Nature” as Whittier, and an “equal 
honesty in phrasing the noble sentiment of the South.” Al- 
though he deliberately gives Timrod three pages of criticism, 


THE POETS 


19 


and Hayne one, to Holmes’ seventeen and Whittier’s twelve, 
he admits that “the few Southern poets, who have phrased 
the emotions aroused by the Civil War, which swept their 
earlier civilization out of existence, reveal a lyric fervour 
hardly yet equalled in the North.” 1 Nevertheless, to the 
Harvard critic in his distant watch-tower in Boston the 
South presents little to vary the general outline of literature 
in America. Evidently it still makes a difference in the 
citizenship of letters whether one is born north or south of 
Mason and Dixon’s line. Though the times are not yet ripe 
to view our literature in its true perspective, it is perfectly 
evident that Timrod, Hayne and Simms, at least, are slowly 
but surely coming to their own. 

In any calm, conservative examination of Timrod’s work 
certain features become evident: (1) his artistic conscience 
was delicately sensitive and true; (2) his fancy, though 
fresh and sprightly and not too heavily freighted with 
thought, was most restrained of all the major American poets 
save Poe, Longfellow, and Hayne; (3) his gift of poetic ex- 
pression was characterized by spontaneity, ease, fervor, and 
richness of color; (4) his inspiration was drawn from the 
visible forms of nature in his own State; (5) his lyric utter- 
ance was remarkable for its beauty, intensity, and power; 
(6) with an impassioned and absolute loyalty to his own 
people at a great crisis, he voiced their emotions in victorious 
battle hymns and plaintive requiems to the slain; and (7) 
his robust and unfaltering optimism was manifested in a 
prophetic outlook that was serene and inspired with a faith 
that all was well. That Timrod set himself the highest 
standard and was satisfied with nothing short of the best 
that was in him is evident in the severe self-criticism and 
prolonged apprenticeship to Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Shel- 


Wendell’s Literary History of America, p. 499. 


20 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

ley, Browning, and especially Tennyson, to which he sub- 
jected himself. His art is distinctively, though not servilely, 
imitative of the master singers. That he was a close student 
of the theory as well as the art of poetics has been recently 
brought to light by the publication in The Atlantic Monthly 1 
of a long-forgotten manuscript by him entitled “A Theory 
of Poetry.” In this profound essay he undertakes an elab- 
orate refutation of Poe’s famous theory in regard to the 
proper length of a poem and of the supremacy of the element 
of beauty. Timrod thus concisely phrases his own poetic 
creed : “I think, when we recall the many and varied sources 
of poetry, we must perforce confess that it is wholly impos- 
sible to reduce them all to the simple element of beauty. Two 
other elements at least must be added ; and these are power, 
when it is developed in some noble shape, and truth, whether 
abstract or not, when it affects the common heart of man- 
kind.” Whether one accepts this view or not, one must 
admit that in his own works he lived up to his poetic doc- 
trines. 

Timrod had just reached his poetic majority in 1861, and 
during the terrible struggle which ensued he was able, though 
handicapped by poverty, ill-health, and hardships intensified 
tenfold by war, to produce a body of poetry both considerable 
in bulk and, in spite of obvious defects, extraordinary in 
merit. In his odes he reached his highest range. In “Eth- 
nogenesis,” which was written during the meeting of the first 
Confederate Congress in February, 1861, he grandly chants 
the birth of the new nation with sustained beauty and eleva- 
tion. He undoubtedly reached his highest level, both in 
technical perfection and impressive vision, in “The Cotton 
Boll,” which is certainly the noblest ode yet written in 
America, with the possible exception of Lowell’s “Commem- 


x See the Atlantic Monthly for September, 1905. 


THE POETS 


21 


oration Ode,” recited at Harvard in 1865. He was here able 
with something like genius to phrase with exquisite finality 
the voice of the agricultural and militant South. Mr. Lew- 
isohn especially praises “the tense restraint in the pregnant 
brevity of the lines of the opening passage, in which passion 
and high imagination are perfectly fused and adequate ex- 
pression is achieved.” “Carolina” is the most fervid war- 
lyric in our whole literature, and is a rare success in a diffi- 
cult type. Henry Austin has asked if it “may not be pro- 
nounced superior to any martial Greek poetry now extant,” 
and Professor Thomas de la Torre has eloquently said: “I 
must think that if in the long centuries the days shall come 
when the cause for which Carolinians bled and died shall 
grow fainter on the ears of distant men, that even in that 
calm and far-off day, when the agony and the strife are long 
stilled, that agony and strife would live again and the great 
heart of Carolina would beat once more if, perhaps, some 
ancient scholar, musing on the record of the past, should 
read these words.” The “Ode for the Soldiers Buried in 
Magnolia Cemetery” is as admirable in tone, spirit, and tech- 
nique as if it had come out of the Greek Anthology. “It is 
so perfect of its kind,” says Professor Trent, “that it seems 
sufficient to preserve his memory not merely as a Southern 
but as a national possession. One need not fear for this once 
to compare a South Carolina poem with the best lyrics of 
the kind in the literature of the world.” Than this there can 
be no higher praise. A group of minor lyrics, wonderful for 
their atmosphere and exquisite rhythm, includes “Charles- 
ton,” a lesson of steadfastness to the beleagured city in its 
hour of darkest trial ; “Carmen Triumphale,” commemorative 
of the first Confederate victory; “Christmas,” verses that 
move the heart and are all aglow with the precious fire of 
genuine poetry ; “Spring,” a poem classical in conception but 
intensely local in treatment, and closing with a thrilling 


3— W 


22 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


flush of beauty; and “Katie,” in which he celebrates with 
high lyric rapture the charms of his English wife, whose girl- 
ish beauty and grace he interprets through the subtle sym- 
pathy which exists between human loveliness and the forms 
of nature. The sonnets contain some of Timrod’s most costly 
phrasing and maturest thought, and deserve careful study, 
in spite of their imperfect structure. This defect was due 
to the poet having followed the example of Wordsworth and 
Matthew Arnold, both of whom introduced three rhymes in 
the octave. 

Paul Hamilton Hayne (1830-1886) is the most distin- 
guished of the talented writers whom South Carolina shares 
with Georgia. He lost home, library, family plate, nearly 
everything, through the ravages of war, and found a quiet re- 
treat in the pine forests near Augusta. There, in a rough cot- 
tage “on a barren hill-top,” as he tells us, “with thirty dollars 
between us and — starvation,” he began a cheerful struggle 
with poverty, ill-health, and conditions adverse to a success- 
ful literary career. But fortunately during the days when 
he was “fighting down the black spectre of despair” he was 
encouraged by the inspiring companionship of a wife remark- 
able for her devotion, fortitude, and cheerfulness. With her 
and his son, the well-known poet, Mr. William Hamilton 
Hayne (1856-), he was destined to enjoy many happy, fruit- 
ful and honored years. His artistic development had been 
slow but well-rounded. Up to the year 1859 he was known 
as the author of three volumes of verse which, though they 
contained but few pieces that rose above the “dead level of 
mediocrity,” gave promise of a true poet with a passionate 
love of nature and a genuine devotion to his craft. Probably 
no other American poet has subjected himself to a longer or 
more severe literary apprenticeship. Besides his constant 
study of the modern poets and the practice of versification, 
his editorial connection with The Southern Literary Gazette 


THE POETS 


23 


and Russell’s Magazine gave him a valuable critical training. 
During the war he contributed to the newspapers many spir- 
ited martial lyrics in behalf of the Confederate cause. These, 
like most of the sectional war-songs of the time, breathed an 
ardent patriotic sentiment, but were often sanguinary and 
melodramatic. Though some of these efforts were charac- 
terized by dignity and refined poetic expression, Hayne never 
attained the trumpet notes and impassioned utterance of 
Timrod. His war poetry is not in his best vein. His most 
important contribution was made after 1876. Up to that 
year his work had revealed a ripe culture, a keen sensitive- 
ness to the deeper moods of Wordsworth, and the influence 
of the ornate diction and musical versification of Keats and 
Tennyson. He had also already demonstrated considerable 
skill in handling the difficult sonnet structure. He after- 
wards so excelled in this form that Maurice Thompson said, 
with pardonable enthusiasm, that he “could pick out twenty 
of Hayne’s sonnets equal to almost any others in our lan- 
guage,” and Professor Wendell declares that “few American 
sonnets are more sincere than his ‘Fate, or God.’ ” As a 
sonneteer, Hayne certainly outranks all other American 
poets. After 1866 he continued gradually but surely to gain 
a masterly command of all the resources of his art. His 
industry was indefatigable, and his application to letters as 
a profession is comparable only to that of Simms. He 
enjoyed the life-long friendship of his confreres in the South 
and of Bryant, Longfellow, Holmes, and others in the North, 
and through the great Northern magazines, which in time 
accorded his poetry a cordial welcome, he possessed the ear 
of the whole American public. Thanks to the added years 
that were granted him, his literary output was the largest 
of all the Southern poets. 

Hayne takes high rank as a narrative poet. Maurice 
Thompson says “The Mountain of the Lovers,” “The Macro- 


24 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


bian Bow,” “Macdonald’s Raid,” and “The Vengeance of the 
Goddess Diana” are works worth the crown of an academy. 
Mr. Lewisohn thinks his “Daphles” “the best American nar- 
rative poem ever written,” and mentions “The Wife of Brit- 
tany” and “The Story of Glaucus, the Thessalian,” as 
“poems of extraordinary beauty and power.” “Aethra,” says 
Professor Painter, “is a gem of its kind, a poem of rare 
excellence and beauty.” His work of most enduring charm, 
however, is in his nature poems. Here he treated subjects 
not only of perennial interest, but such as were congenial to 
his beauty-loving and richly imaginative temperament. Al- 
though he was probably inferior to Timrod in artistic sensi- 
tiveness, he was his equal in conscientiousness, and his supe- 
rior in versatility, sustained power of thought, and the larger 
humanity. Unlike his friend, he describes nature for her 
own sake and not merely for her symbolism or as a teacher 
of man. Professor Trent is much impressed by his “deli- 
cately receptive genius,” and names him as “one of our great- 
est masters of technique.” “His poetry,” wrote James Wood 
Davidson, in 1869, before Hayne had attained his maturity, 
“is alive with pent passion, glowing yet repressed ; a tropical 
wealth of emotion, touched here and there with a dash of 
quaintness or a flow of affectation. He is fervent, but some- 
times feeble; musical and dainty in phraseology; full of 
earnestness, tenderness, and delicacy.” The sumptuous edi- 
tion of his poems, containing nearly four hundred double- 
column pages, which was brought out in Boston in 1882, is 
the most important single volume of poetry yet issued by 
any Southern author. The distinguished poet of Virginia, 
Mrs. Margaret J. Preston (1820-1897), contributed to this 
collection a sympathetic sketch, in which she pointed out 
Hayne’s superb fight for independence in his chosen profes- 
sion, the fineness of his culture, his self-abnegation of the 
role of moralist and reformer, his intimate acquaintance with 


THE POETS 


25 


classical English poetry, the refinement of his expression, his 
adequate treatment of memorable deeds, the perfection of his 
reflective and religious verse, and his supreme gift of paint- 
ing nature in her distinctively Southern aspects. His best 
descriptive poems, which include the wonderful series on the 
pines, are saturated with warm, harmonious color, and are 
redolent with perfume and melody. In the impressive lyric, 
“In Harbor,” sense and sound are wonderfully blended and 
the possibilities of euphonious versification are well-nigh ex- 
hausted. “By the Grave of Henry Timrod” is the most 
deeply touching elegy in our literature. “A Storm in the 
Distance,” “The Broken Chords,” “By the Autumn Sea,” 
“The Mocking Bird,” and “Unveiled,” will certainly some 
day be numbered among the imperishable treasures of the 
national anthology. In Mrs. Preston’s choice phrase, “Hayne 
was content to dwell in the quiet realm of beauty, amid the 
aromatic freshness of the woods, the swaying incense of the 
cathedral-like aisles of pines, the sough of dying summer 
winds, the glint of lonely pools, and the brooding notes of 
leaf-hidden mocking-birds.” His brave, unselfish character, 
his instinctive friendliness, and his patriotic effort to recon- 
cile the long-estranged sections, have already made him one 
of the best-beloved men of the South, and his remarkable 
artistic endowment and creative energy should eventually 
place him securely in the small company of greater Ameri- 
can poets. 

Among our poets, Hayne and Timrod, of course, hold pre- 
eminence in song, and are steadily gathering fame with the 
passing years. But, as we have seen above, they are attended 
by a group of minor singers who for native talent, skill in 
poetics, and choice of subjects, deserve a far wider reputation 
and a more serious critical attention than they have as yet 
received. 


26 


THE WEITEES OF SOUTH CABOLINA 


James Mathewes LegaeS (1823-1859) undoubtedly de- 
serves first place among the lesser poets of the ante-bellum 
period. In 1848 he published a thin book of verse oddly 
entitled “Orta-Undis and Other Poems” from the closing 
piece in Latin. The author died too young to fulfil the 
splendid promise of his single volume. Mr. Lewisohn has 
rendered an important service to letters in rediscovering 
Legard, whom he shows to have been a genuine artist “who 
produced a modicum of true and sweet minor poetry and who 
used simple lyric meters with firmness and distinction as the 
vehicle of his loving observation of nature.” “To a Lily” is 
marked by a delicate and effective symbolism. “The Reaper,” 
“Haw-Blossoms,” and “Flowers in Ashes,” reveal a close 
intimacy with nature and the mastery of form that is dis- 
tinctly modern. In “Tallulah” he strikes a deeper imagi- 
native note and attains a greater originality of form. The 
lines to his wife are strong in reflection and characterization, 
and human tenderness, and his elegy on the death of his kins- 
man, Hugh S. Legard, is cast in a noble classical mould. 

Another poet whom time is slowly rescuing from oblivion 
is Cathaeine Gendeon Poyas (1813-1882). She inherited 
a strong impulse toward a literary career from her mother, 
Elizabeth Ann Poyas (1792-1877), “The Ancient Lady of 
Charleston,” who wrote three volumes of sketches entitled 
“Carolina in the Olden Time” (1855), “Our Forefathers, 
Their Homes and Their Churches” (1860), and “Days of 
Yore, or Shadows of the Past” (1870). Miss Poyas was a 
woman of rare cultivation, and after many years of faithful 
practice and severe self-criticism, produced her elegiac vol- 
ume of religious verse, “The Year of Grief.” It consists of a 
sequence of forty sonnets, a form in which success is exceed- 
ingly rare, which are nearly perfect in structure, and quite 
satisfactory in conception. She shows herself, in fact, much 
at home in the difficult though rich and noble vehicle of acad- 


THE POETS 


27. 


emic expression. Her artistic self-control, her sincerity of 
utterance, her deftness in shaping her material, and the in- 
tensity and solemn beauty of her lines, mark her work as far 
above the ordinary. Such sonnets as “Hark to the Voice of 
Wailing,” “On whom shall thy descending mantle rest?” and 
the one on the death of Bishop Gadsden, are singularly free 
from the common faults of bathos and intellectual and artis- 
tic insincerity. Among her other poems, “Good Night” and 
“Autumnal Musings” have distinct atmosphere, worthy med- 
itation on nature and life, and should make their appeal to 
cultivated readers. 

William John Gkayson (1788-1863) represents the gen- 
eration that came on the stage just after the Revolution, and 
his work is therefore among the poetical first-fruits of our 
national existence. He was a pleasant though neither a very 
correct nor original writer, and his work is interesting today 
as an example of the prevailing tendency of our post-revolu- 
tionary verse to follow a line of development parallel with 
English poetry. His best poem, “Three-score Years and 
Seven,” is unusually perfect in versification and its reflective 
quality is strongly sustained throughout. “Chicora” ( 1856 ) , 
his most important long poem, is an Indian legend composed 
in the manner of Scott and the later romantic poets. While 
I cannot agree with Mr. Lewisohn that it is “one of the pleas- 
antest pieces of poetic work produced in the State,” I heartily 
subscribe to his opinion that the story is told “with singular 
sweetness of versification and a quiet but very real charm.” 
“The Country” (1858) is a classical, descriptive poem, mod- 
eled on the sixth satire of the second book of Horace. It 
is written after the style of Pope in conventional heroic 
couplets. Due to political conditions, the author himself 
being a member of Congress, “The Hireling and the Slave” 
(1854) attracted wide attention. It vividly contrasts the 
miserable condition of the Northern wage-worker with the 


28 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ha,ppy and care-free lot of the Southern slave. It has been 
pointed out by Mr. Robert W. Shand that this poem curi- 
ously contains what is probably the first public prophecy of 
a return of the negroes to Africa. Grayson is also the author 
of a “Life of James L. Petigru,” a charming piece of prose, 
which many regard superior to any of his poetical works. 

Carlyle McKinley (1847-1904), a gifted man of letters 
whom Georgia gave to South Carolina, is the latest lost of 
our poets. So fresh is his memory and so beloved his per- 
sonality that it is difficult to approach his work in a judicial 
mood. Like Grayson, he was in his life-time even better 
known as a writer of vigorous and finished prose than as a 
poet. His powerful monograph, “An Appeal to Pharaoh” 
( 1889 ) , and his vivid descriptions of “The Charleston Earth- 
quake” and “The Great Cyclone,” form no unimportant part 
of the argumentative and descriptive prose literature of the 
State. His verse is of a subjective and reflective type, and 
reveals talent of the first order. Careful and often exquisite 
in technique, modern in temper, all his work is informed with 
the brave, hopeful, and undaunted spirit that animated South 
Carolinians in the gloomy days of Reconstruction. His pre- 
vailing mood is quiet and subdued, and extreme refinement 
characterizes his thought and feeling. His message is that 
of a genial sensitive nature attuned to the bright and gentle 
things of life, but not unmindful of those that are stern and 
sorrowful. He is always the artist, and yet lofty moral pur- 
pose and deep seriousnesses never absent. His appeal is to 
the mind and the heart of the well-bred few. As he ponders 
over life’s great secrets, he is not always orthodox, but his 
philosophy is sane, sincere, and warmly human. The chief 
charm of “Sapelo,” which barely misses being a masterpiece, 
is the loving and detailed description of nature on the coast. 
In “Crucifer,” a subtle study of human weaknesses, a pro- 
found religious truth is revealed through a vision of enduring 


THE POETS 


29 


beauty. “At the Last” is an original and psychological med- 
itation on the eternal mystery of dissolution. Its simplicity, 
optimism, perfect melody, and nice felicity of epithet are 
noteworthy. “Today and Yesterday” contrasts the joy of 
the present with the vain regret over the irrevocable past. 
“At Timrod’s Grave” is a delicate and touching tribute to 
the once-neglected poet. “In Spring,” a joyful hymn of 
praise to the rejuvenating principle of things, is truly fan- 
ciful and entirely adequate in phrase and structure. 

Me. George Herbert Sass, better known in the world of 
letters as “Barton Grey,” by common consent takes first rank 
among the living poets of South Carolina. He was born in 
Charleston, December 24, 1845. He graduated in 1867 at 
that venerable and excellent seat of learning, the College of 
Charleston, which made him an honorary Doctor of Laws in 
1902. During the war between the sections he was in the 
signal service, but at leisure moments practiced his art, and 
won a prize with one of his patriotic lyrics published in The 
Southern Field and Fireside. Simms included a martial 
piece of Mr. Sass’s, called “The Battle of Richmond,” in his 
“‘War Poetry of the South,” and Davidson gives two of his 
poems, “A Prayer for Peace” and “Far” in his “Living 
Writers.” After the war he practiced law, and is now 
master in equity. He has been for many years book 
reviewer of The News and Courier. In 1904 his poems were 
published in a volume entitled “The Heart’s Quest. A Book 
of Verses by Barton Grey,” containing his best work, includ- 
ing such popular pieces as “The Parting of the Ways,” “Joan 
Mellish,” “Compensation,” and “In a King Cambyses Vein.” 
Professor Trent gives him a place in his “Southern Writers” 
(1905), quoting “The Confederate Dead,” “In a King Cam- 
byses Vein,” and “A Face.” The quality which impresses 
one most in his work is its finality of word, phrase, and 
rhythm. There is the happiest and yet the most inevitable 


30 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


adaptation of thought to form. The art is so skillfully con- 
cealed that there is no sense of effort. There is also a rich 
sensuousness, a high rapture, and a romantic mystery about 
it that is teasingly suggestive of Elizabethan poetry. “In 
a King Cambyses Vein” is one of the most effective ballads 
in American literature, and well ilustrates the author’s facil- 
ity in writing narrative poetry with its rapid movement and 
sharp crises. His “Ode for the Charleston Exposition” 
(1901) is a strong bit of occasional verse. He seems to have 
an equal gift for creative and academic work, and neither is 
ever wanting in the elements that make for popularity. 1 

Mrs. Olive Tilford Dargan published in 1905 her first 
volume of plays, including “Semiramis” and “Carlotta.” 
She has since published (1906) four dramas of extraordinary 
merit. “The Siege” is a tragedy in blank verse with the scene 
laid in Syracuse in the time of the tyrant Dionysius. “The 
Shepherd” is written in prose, and pictures contemporary 
life among the Russian revolutionists. “Lords and Lovers” 
(1906) is a romantic drama in two parts. It deals with the 
loves of Henry III and his plotting nobles. With the excep- 
tion of a few scenes in the sub-plot, it is composed in blank 
verse. In The Century for August, 1907, appeared a masque 
from her pen entitled, “The Woods of Ida.” Mrs. Dargan 
has so recently achieved fame that it may seem premature to 
pronounce a critical judgment on her work. It is certain, 
however, that it marks the high tide of dramatic poetry in 
this country, and is, indeed, not unworthy of comparison with 
all but the greatest in English literature. One is equally 
impressed by the creative inspiration and the mastery of 
technique displayed by the author. Each of her plays reveals 
a dramatic power and a poetic beauty of thought and diction 
that are surprising. The numerous songs, also, with which 
her plays are interspersed, yield a rich and haunting melody 


iDied February 10, 1908. 


THE POETS 


31 


that is redolent of the charming Elizabethan lyrics. The 
dramas as a whole are audacious in plot and vigorous in 
characterization. In the handling of the blank verse, in the 
witty scenes of the sub-plots, in the splendor of the phrasing, 
in the strong undercurrent of reflection, and, above all, in 
their spiritual uplift and noble emotion, these dramas give 
evidence of a remarkably gifted playwright who not only pos- 
sesses a deep feeling for art at its highest and best, but who 
also has command of all the varied resources of dramatic 
expression. 

Me. William Hamilton Hayne belongs more to Georgia 
than to South Carolina, though the place of his birth entitles 
him to mention in this work. He was born on March 11, 
1856, at Charleston. After the war he accompanied his fam- 
ily to Copse Hill, and was there educated. He has contrib- 
uted much poetry of a thoughtful, academic kind to the 
public press since 1879, and has worn worthily the poetic 
mantle bequeathed to him by his brilliant father. A collec- 
tion of his poems was published in 1892 under the title of 
“Sylvan Lyrics and Other Verses.” 

Me. Feank Lebby Stanton also is now identified with 
Georgia, having long lived in Atlanta, where he is a member 
of the staff of The Constitution. He was born, however, in 
Charleston, in 1857, and is mentioned for that reason. He 
is the author of two volumes of verse, “Songs of the Soil” 
and “Comes One With a Song.” Among his representative 
poems are “Return, Sweet Day,” “A Little Way,” and “In 
Starry Silence.” His work is essentially popular and makes 
a direct appeal to the heart of the masses. Like the poetry 
of Eugene Field, Riley, and Kiser, with which it should be 
compared, it is marked by a sweet and tender sentiment, 
extreme simplicity, and natural grace. 

Limitation of space prevents more than a brief mention 
of a few of the writers in the third group given above. Mr. 


32 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Lewisohn speaks of John Davis's “Whippoorwill” as “per- 
haps the first sonnet written in South Carolina.” This 
curious bit of verse is contained in a duodecimo pamphlet of 
poems, a rare copy of which is preserved in the library of the 
College of Charleston. The author was foreign born, but 
having adopted this State as his home, insisted on being 
known as “John Davis of Coosawhatchie.” My attention 
has been called by Professor Snowden also to a book of 
“Travels” by Davis in the Charleston Library. It contains 
some graphic sketches of life in the low-country of South 
Carolina in the early part of the nineteenth century. 

The two volumes by Howard Hayne Caldwell (1831- 
1855) entitled “Oliatta and Other Poems,” and his later 
“Poems,” are faulty in verse-carpentry, romantically extrava- 
gant, turgid and diffuse, but in their luxuriant fancy and 
richly sensuous phrasing strongly reflect the influence of 
Keats and Tennyson. His “Saint Agnes” was praised by 
Simms, but is too long and metrically slipshod. The same 
charge may be made against “A Dream of Maries,” but both 
poems give glimpses of the weird beauty and charm that is 
found in the mediaeval atmosphere. His treatment of roman- 
tic subjects is better than that of the classical. His sonnet 
on the “Death of Anderson” represents him at his best. He 
is most at home when dealing with the rapt mood of the re- 
ligious mystic. The artistic impulse was very strong in him 
and with more restraint he might have rivalled Legare. 

The chief title of William Gilmore Simms (1806-1870) to 
distinction rests on his historical .fiction, but a considerable 
share of his many-sided activity was devoted to the cultiva- 
tion of poetry. The number of volumes of verse which he 
either wrote or compiled amounts to twenty-four. Up to 
1833, indeed, his poetical writings occupied the larger share 
of his time, and, as in the case of Scott, exerted a beneficial 
effect on his prose style. Yet Simms was never able to accom- 


THE POETS 


33 


plish much in the service of the Muses. As might be expected, 
his best verse is found among his ballads and other narrative 
pieces. “The Swamp Fox” has deserved a long popularity 
by virtue of its many fine descriptive touches, and “The Cas- 
sique of Accabee” and “The Ballad of Fort Moultrie” have 
no lack of rapid movement and adventure. “Atalantis, a 
Story of the Sea,” is considered his best narrative poem, 
and though lacking in human interest, has passages of much 
charm and power. It is a romance in blank verse centering 
about the love-affairs of a nereid, a sea-monster, and a Span- 
ish knight. His skill in paraphrasing is illustrated in “The 
Burden of the Desert,” in which he has reproduced in a swift 
modern meter much of the suggestive and awful sublimity of 
Isaiah. Undoubtedly his greatest and most perfect poem is 
“The Lost Pleiad,” in which he attained a note of imperish- 
able beauty. It was much improved by several revisions sub- 
sequent to its first appearance in The Southern Literary Ga- 
zette in 1829. Davidson says with just discrimination that 
“he has several elements of the true poet, such as a fertile 
and vivid imagination, a quick sense of effects and a ready 
faculty of construction.” And it will be seen that these are 
the very qualities that enrich and enliven his prose. But 
after all that can be said in favor of his poetical gifts, it 
must be admitted that his poetic endowment was slender 
and undeveloped. 

From the very beginning the women of South Carolina 
have borne a worthy part in the development of her literature, 
and usually through the medium of the newspapers and mag- 
azines have not hesitated to express their opinions, senti- 
ments, and ideals. Buried here and there, too, in the libra- 
ries of the State are many quaint leather-bound books of the 
ante-bellum days in which are hidden away the offerings of 
her lovely daughters at the altars of the Muses. The excel- 
lent work of Miss Catharine Gendron Poyas has already been 


34 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


discussed, but others deserve attention, especially Mrs. Caro- 
line H. Gilman, Miss Mary E. Lee, Mrs. Louisa S. McCord, 
Mrs. Mary S. Whitaker, Mrs. Annie Peyre Dinnies, Miss 
Clara Y. Dargan, Mrs. Caroline A. Ball, Miss Esther B. 
Cheesborough, and Miss Frances Guignard Gibbes. 

Each of these has contributed to the anthology of the 
commonwealth at least one or two lyrics that have kept sweet 
and fresh, and still seem the utterance of a living voice. The 
possession of true poetic inspiration cannot be denied them, 
and stylistic defects of form and proportion should be at- 
tributed to faulty training and the lack of any but the most 
amateurish and undiscriminating criticism. Yet a close ex- 
amination of the work of these sweet singers of South Caro- 
lina should convince the most skeptical that it is unique, 
interesting, and indispensable. 

Caroline Howard Gilman (1794-1888) was, on the whole, 
the most eminent woman writer of the State. Her most 
important writings, however, are in prose and will be dis- 
cussed in another section. Her “Verses of a Life-Time” 
(1849) contains some fairly good poetry, especially in the 
division headed “Thoughts in Journeying.” Her ballads and 
dramatic sketches are of less value. “To the Ursulines” can 
safely be pronounced a poem of exquisite beauty and real 
merit. One cannot help admiring the lofty thought and im- 
agery, the broad sympathy and catholicity of the author, and 
excepting the rather monotonous repetition of a single word, 
the metrical effect is altogether satisfactory. “Annie in the 
Graveyard” also is an admirable piece of poetic composition, 
with its delicate description and its Wordsworthian sim- 
plicity. Mary Elizabeth Lee (1813-1849), in her fondness 
for nature and her choice of themes from real life, shows the 
influence of Wordsworth. The spirit of such pieces as “The 
Spring” and “The Poets” is impulsive and glad-hearted, but 
in spite of their appropriate meters, the execution is uneven 


THE POETS 


35 


and not always correct. Death is a favorite subject with 
her, and in “The Last Place of Sleep” she has treated it in 
a mood of pensive sadness which is gently relieved by 
thoughts of flowers and human love. “Among her best com- 
positions,” says Griswold, “are several poems, in the ballad 
style, founded on Southern traditions, in which she has 
shown dramatic skill and considerable ability in description. 
One of the best of these is “The Indian’s Revenge, a Legend 
of Toccoa.” Annie Peyre Dinnies (1816-) contributed to 
most of the Southern magazines under the pseudonym of 
“Moina.” Her “Floral Year” was once popular, but soon 
went out of print. The domestic affections are the theme 
of some of her best verses. “The Wife,” though written in 
too facile a style, wins one by its simple truth and tender 
pathos. “Wedded Love” has intensity of feeling, but more 
artifice. “The Greek Slave” is full of statuesque grace and 
dignity as well as sympathy, but its strong religious note 
almost obscures the artistic effect. Mary Scrimgeour Whit- 
aker (1822-1906) expressed thoughts in a clear, simple and 
natural style, but her art is sometimes choked by conven- 
tionality of form. Her chief faults are accentuated by her 
use of the rhymed couplet. Due to her temperament and 
circumstances, the Byronic pose is seen in her preference 
for such subjects as the lonely heart, solitude, the grave, 
which are treated in a mood of sad and plaintive melancholy. 
Her best bit of verse, “The Flower, the Star, and the Rill,” 
is a good specimen of old-fashioned sentiment. Of medi- 
ocre merit is “The Creole,” a long narrative poem written 
after a brief residence in the West Indies. “It was intended,” 
the author tells us, “to be chiefly descriptive of scenery, with- 
out any intricacy of plot.” Mrs. Louisa Susannah McCord 
( 1810-1880 ) was a woman of marked personality and a writer 
of great intellectual force. In her life-time she was best 
known as the author of many vigorous and logical articles 


36 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


on philanthropic and economic subjects, but she will prob- 
ably be remembered much longer for a poem entitled “The 
Voice of Years,” which was published in “My Dreams,” a 
volume of her fugitive verse issued at Philadelphia in 1848. 
Davidson aptly comments on it as “earnest, natural and 
direct; nothing feeble, or even flowery — nothing Corinthian, 
but all Doric.” In “Caius Gracchus” (1851) she attempted 
blank verse tragedy, but with only moderate success. The 
dialogue is heavy, and the meter is often wooden and inflex- 
ible, but there are some strong psychological and truly dra- 
matic situations. It should be classed with the scholarly 
closet dramas which are never intended to be acted. 

The great war for Southern independence was scarcely 
over when Simms set to work with laudable patriotism to 
collect the best martial and domestic lyrics that had ap- 
peared in the various Southern periodicals during its prog- 
ress. These, like the battle-odes of the Roundheads and Cav- 
aliers in the seventeenth century, he proudly declared to be 
now a part of the national literary heritage. An interesting 
and invaluable chapter in American literature they are in- 
deed, for in these personal outbursts of song are perpetuated 
in the imperishable form of art the joys and sorrows, the 
hopes and fears, the splendid courage and devotion of a great 
people. “The Civil War added to the stock of American 
poetry,” says Professor Trent, “a mass of verse, sufficient 
both in quantity and in quality to warrant a fair amount of 
attention from the historian and the critic of literature. It 
is marked by a deep sincerity, and on the Southern side 
especially by an intensity of emotion that somewhat hampers 
cool criticism.” In this war-poetry South Carolina easily 
bears off the palm. What other State can match the war- 
songs and odes of Timrod and Hayne, already referred to, 
and those of their contemporaries? Among the latter we 


THE POETS 


37 


should include “Our Christmas Hymn,” with its profound and 
tender pathos, and “The Foe at the Gates,” a fervid battle- 
hymn throbbing with Spartan courage and patriotism, by 
John Dickson Bruns (1836-18 — ) ; “South Carolina,” a mar- 
tial lyric which sounded a trumpet note at the beginning of 
hostilities, and is in both spirit and technique entirely ade- 
quate, by Samuel Henry Dickson (1798-1872) ; “Ashes of 
Glory,” by Augustus Julian Requier (1825-1887), and 
“Stack Arms!” by Joseph Blyth Allston, two solemn 
dirges over the lost cause of the South. In this connection 
should also be mentioned Judge Requier’s “Ode to Victory,” 
Mrs. Caroline A. Ball's sweetly sad “A Jacket of Gray” 
(1866), Mr. Sass’s “Battle of Richmond,” and Mr. Allston’s 
“Sumter,” each of which is of undisputed literary merit. 

Alexander Beaufort Meek (1814-1865) belongs equally 
to South Carolina and to Alabama. He was the author of 
a volume of romantic sketches, which have long been for- 
gotten, and a book of lyric poems of uneven quality. Three 
of these latter, “The Land of the South,” “Girl of the Sunny 
South,” and “The Mocking-Bird,” are true products of the 
soil, and are sufficient to demonstrate the author’s possession 
of genuine fancy and inspiration as well as a correct ear for 
rhythmical effects. Who can read the “Land of the South,” 
with its ardent and blended love of nature and native land, 
without a quicker heartbeat? 

Elias Marks (1790-1886) was a classical scholar with all 
the inherited conservatism of eighteenth century classicism 
in letters. He wrote a long narrative poem entitled “El- 
freide of Guldal.” It is based on a Scandinavian legend, and 
is extremely romantic in subject and treatment. His “Maia : 
A Mask” feels the influence of Ben Jonson and his followers, 
and though cast in a stiff conventional mould, with a touch 
of the pedantic, has lines and verse paragraphs that faith- 
fully mirror the loveliness and freshness of nature. 


4— W 


38 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Most of the verse written by our contemporary poets is 
not sufficiently tempered by time to be viewed in its true 
perspective. The work of a living writer, especially if be 
gives promise of greater achievement in the future, seems 
too near us for impersonal treatment. Without any invid- 
ious distinction, however, Mr. Yates Snowden’s “A Caro- 
lina Bourbon” deserves special mention, as it has already 
taken its place as a classic in our literature. As a sympa- 
thetic portrait of a loyal gentleman of the old Southern 
school, it stands without a rival in American verse, and its 
pleasing contrasts of opulence and seedy respectability, — 
the lights and shadows of an eventful life, humorous and 
pathetic by turns, are admirably done in quiet, academic 
tones. It is exceedingly regretted that the plan of this col- 
lection forbids the admission of this memorable poem. 1 The 
author is a native of Charleston, where he was born in 1858. 
He graduated at the College of Charleston in 1879, and was 
admitted to the bar in 1882. He soon after entered upon a 
career of journalism and was until 1904 an editorial writer 
on the staff of The News and Courier. The year following 
he was elected Professor of History in the South Carolina 
College, and now fills that chair. Besides his skill in poeti- 
cal technique, Mr. Snowden is master of a graceful and sug- 
gestive prose style, and is the author of many valuable crit- 
ical and historical papers. 

These three groups do not by any means exhaust the list of 
South Carolina poets. Even a very incomplete list of authors 
and their works must include at least a bare mention of the 
following: James Aiken (1812-1877), of Fairfield; Julia Aid- 
rich Baker, of Gaffney, author of “Gleams of Truth”; John 
A. Chapman (1821-1906), of Newberry, author of “The Walk, 
and Other Poems” (1873), “Within the Veil,” and “Verses 


l “A Carolina Bourbon” may be found in Trent’s “Southern Writers.’ 


THE POETS 


39 


for Young and Old” (1896) ; Charles Colcock Hay, author 
of “The Rose” and other lyrics; Samuel J. Hay, author of 
“A Health to Old Virginia” and other poems ; Henry Mazyck 
Clarkson, author of “Evelyn, and Other Poems”; Floride 
Clemson, of Pendleton, author of “Poet Skies”; St. James 
Cummings, of Charleston, who wrote the “Jubilee Ode” for 
the South Carolina Military Academy; William C. Dana 
(1810-1873), author of “Hymns for Public Worship”; Willie 
East, author of “Southern Voices”; Henry Tudor Farmer 
(1782-1828), author of “The Maniac’s Dream”; Mary Weston 
Fordham, author of “Magnolia Leaves”; Mary Fowles, of 
Newberry, whose works include “The Golden Fleece” (1875), 
“A Sequence of Songs” (1882), “A Hero’s Last Days,” a 
novel (1883), “Echoes of Holy Week,” and “Songs of a New 
Age” ; Caroline Griswold, of Charleston, author of “Poems,” 
“Zaidee,” and “Bannockburn”; Laura Gwyn (1833-), author 
of “Miscellaneous Poems”; Frances Guignard Gibbes, of 
Columbia; Robert Pleasant Hall (1825-1854), who wrote 
“Poems by a South Carolinian”; Edward Clifford Holland 
(1794-1824), of Charleston, author of “Odes, Naval Songs 
and Other Poems” ; George S. Holmes, author of “Fons Fab- 
ulosus” and “A Token”; John D. Knott, of Orangeburg; 
Joseph Brown Ladd (1764-1786), author of “Poems of 
Arouet”; Margaret Maxwell Martin (1817-), of Columbia; 
William Maxwell Martin (1837-1861), author of “A Man 
Dies Not Till His Work is Done,” and other poems; Julia 
C. Mintzing; Penina Moise (1797-1830), author of “Fancy’s 
Sketch-book” ; Vivian Mordaunt Moses, of Sumter ; F. 
Miiench, of Charleston, author of “Palmetto Lyrics” ; Rosalie 
Miller Murphy; Margaret A. Richards (1870-), of Columbia, 
author of “Gleanings from a Wayside,” “Three Bells” ; Eliza 
Murden; Mary Palmer Shindler (1810-), who wrote “The 
Northern Harp,” “The Southern Harp,” and “The Young 
Sailor”; James Wright Simmons, of Charleston, author of 


40 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“Bluebeard” (1821), and “The Greek Girl” (1852) ; William 
Hayne Simmons, of Charleston, author of “Onea” and 
“The Wilderness”; William Henry Timrod (1792-1838), of 
Charleston, who wrote “To Time — The Old Traveler” and 
“Autumnal Day in Carolina” ; Belton O’Neall Townsend, of 
Darlington, author of “Plantation Lays”; Doctor Emanuel 
A. Wingard (1849-1900), of Lexington, author of “Echoes 
and Other Poems” and “For Church and State”; Doctor 
Robert Wilson, author of “The Mocking-Bird”; Dr. Charles 
S. Vedder, author of “Holland”; Governor John Lyde Wil- 
son, who wrote “Cupid and Psyche” (1842) ; James Henry 
Rice, Jr., author of “The Poet and the City,” “Hampton : Sa- 
lutem,” etc.; Edward Young (1818-), author of “Ladye Lil- 
lian and Other Poems,” and J. Gordon Coogler, author of 
“Purely Original Verse” ; Ludwig Lewisohn, author of “Amor 
Triumphans,” and “The Garden of Passion”; Robert Elliott 
Gonzales, who wrote “The Isle of Heart’s Desire”; Mrs. 
Nanny Miles Durant, author of “A Book of Verse” (1906), 
and Mrs. Janie Screven Heyward, author of “Wild Roses.” 
John McCrady, who wrote “The Forge of Thought” (1882) ; 
N. Russell Middleton, author of “The Allegory of Plato” 
(1891) ; J. A. Mercator, who wrote “The Walk”; Miss Sallie 
A. M. Black, author of “The Chimes of St. Michael’s.” 

IV 

THE ORATORS 

It has been shown by Mr. Lewisohn that the literary ori- 
gins of South Carolina are differentiated from those of the 
other States by three important considerations: (1) the 
isolation of the province from the other colonies, (2) its 
comparative accessibility to the mother country, and (3) the 
liberal character of its inhabitants. One immediate effect 


THE ORATORS 


41 


of these conditions, the first two of which were physical and 
the third temperamental, was to produce especially in prose 
a development of the literature of the eighteenth century 
type. Our statesmen of the provincial regime and of the 
early commonwealth found their models among the parlia- 
mentary orators of England, who in turn had inherited the 
rhetorical principles of the ancients, among whom Demos- 
thenes and Cicero were the most eloquent exemplars. The 
difference then between English and South Carolina oratory 
was not in kind, but in personality. The Rutledges, Dray- 
tons, Laurenses, Pinckneys, Robert Y. Hayne, Calhoun, Pres- 
ton, and McDuffie wrote and spoke in the general style of 
Burke, Chatham, Pitt, Walpole, and Sheridan. The South 
Carolinians were thus simply adopting for practical uses a 
traditional and conventional literary instrument. 

The study of the oratory of South Carolina is interesting 
and instructive for several reasons. Here, at least, is one 
field in which this State does not yield precedence to any 
other. The art of eloquent, classical speech reached so trans- 
cendant a level in South Carolina that she may safely chal- 
lenge first place over Massachusetts, endowed as she is with 
such great names as Otis, Phillips, Choate, Parker, Sumner, 
Everett, and Webster. On account of political conditions 
this State was extraordinarily prolific in orators, who rever- 
entially received their art from their ancestors, assiduously 
cultivated it, and devoutly transmitted it to their successors. 
For generations the whole State was a school of oratory. 
Even where the defects of early training are manifest, the 
speeches reveal the noble and virile personality of their 
authors, all men of approved courage and patriotism, and 
preserve far better than any second-hand means their pro- 
found political doctrines. Of all literary forms, oratory is 
the slowest to change its type. That old-fashioned rhetori- 
cal style still appeals to popular taste, but is passing in this 


42 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


generation. The best modern taste now prefers a much sim- 
pler and less highly decorative and artificial style. Present- 
day oratory relies for its effects upon logical precision, 
severe coherence, simple directness, natural contrasts of hu- 
mor and pathos, and above all, upon a quiet restraint and 
finely filed phrasing. The fashion has changed, and we now 
have in pulpit, bar, and forum an art which is, on the whole, 
more carefully concealed, more subtle, and less self-conscious. 
As contrasted with latter-day standards, the ante-bellum 
oratory seems self-conscious, sometimes almost histrionic, 
stately and excessively dignified, fervidly eloquent, some- 
times surcharged with fervid aspiration or denunciation, 
heavily weighted with tandem substantives and marshaled 
epithets, and with carefully balanced phrase and clause. It 
was a grandiloquent style which depended for its effects upon 
verbal thunderbolts and the momentum of vast rolling waves 
of sound. There was no lack of profound thinking, equally 
convincing in its logic and its emotional appeal. It must 
be admitted that their speeches are now of greater historical 
than aesthetic interest. It cannot be denied that they are 
vital with splendid thought and feeling, and though they 
cannot be classed as pure literature with the essay, the novel, 
and poetry, constitute an important division of the literature 
of power. 

From the earliest times down to about 1820 the men of 
South Carolina were conspicuous for military ability and 
constructive statesmanship, and contributed probably more 
than any other State except Virginia to the successful crea- 
tion of the Union. After this first period the State produced 
a remarkable school of orators and statesmen that for a time 
made her the most influential commonwealth in the councils 
of the nation. The causes of this prominence are well under- 
stood, and can be merely referred to here. The interests of 
South Carolina in common with those of the rest of the 


THE OKATOBS 


43 


South made necessary a determined championship of the 
rights and powers of the State as opposed to the encroach- 
ments of the Federal Government. A single concrete and 
finally overshadowing phase of this defense of the common- 
wealth against the Union was the issue of domestic slavery, 
which was connected vitally with the economic development 
of the South. Another question was the right of the State 
to nullify obnoxious acts of Congress. Still a third was the 
great and hitherto unsettled doctrine of secession. The high- 
est political rewards attached to the services of the success- 
ful orator and statesman caused the ablest men of the State 
to specialize on these and other political and economic sub- 
jects, the result being a surprisingly large output of polemic 
literature. The very processes which were propitious to the 
making of men and women of marked individuality, the finest 
flower of a modern chivalry, were correspondingly uncon- 
genial to the production of professional writers, especially 
that ethereal but bohemian class that thrived best in garrets 
and coffee-houses. The aristocracy which dominated South 
Carolina for a century was the splendid product of her oli- 
garchic civilization, and there is no more characteristic prod- 
uct than the voluminous collection of speeches and political 
pamphlets of that period. Oratory was the most brilliant 
phase of our public life. 

John Caldwell Calhoun (1782-1850) was preeminent 
among the publicists whom the South produced after the era 
of the Revolution. Not only does he still take precedence 
among South Carolina’s most distinguished sons, but his 
colossal figure bulks ever larger in the horizon of the nation 
as the years go by. Edward Everett wisely named him with 
Clay and Webster in the triumvirate of greatest ante-bellum 
commoners, and history today confirms the judgment. More 
than any other Southern statesman of his generation he in- 
carnated the political creed of the entire South. He became 


<yj 

1 


44 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


and remained by merit the acknowledged leader and cham- 
pion of the rights of the States in the nation’s parliamentary 
arena. His profound grasp of the principles of statecraft 
made him the supreme expositor of the Federal Constitution. 
Mr. John Temple Graves thus accurately estimates his place 
in history: “Calhoun’s debate with Webster over the doc- 
trine of States’ rights is, by common consent of impartial 
readers and hearers, regarded as the greatest, the most logi- 
cal, and the most statesman-like speech ever uttered in the 
American Senate. Webster never attempted a reply to it. 
Whatever varying opinion may be entertained as to the lit- 
erary or oratorical merits of the debate, every subsequent 
year of our history has vindicated the positions established 
in the iron logic of Calhoun. And the doctrine of States’ 
rights is respected today in Massachusetts as it is in South 
Carolina.” Alexander H. Stephens declared Calhoun’s “Dis- 
quisition on Government” to be the ablest political essay in 
the world, and expressed the opinion that it would outlive 
the language in which it was written. Professor Trent thus 
summarizes his character: “As a man he was above re- 
proach ; as a statesman, full of courage and resources ; as an 
orator, dignified, impressive, and not lacking in deep pa ssion ; 
as a writer, clear and cogent ; as a political theorist, weighty 
and acute .” 1 In another part of this volume is a biographical 
sketch containing the most important events in his life. An 
extract also is given from Robert Barnwell Rhett’s eloquent 
eulogy of Calhoun, in which he is compared with Aristotle, 
Burke, and other celebrated statesmen of the world. We 
are here concerned chiefly with his style. 

A close analysis of his style reveals several distinguishing 
characteristics. First of all, it is essentially argumentative. 
Its appeal, which is powerful and convincing, is addressed 
almost exclusively to the reason and the will, and is based 


Trent’s Southern Writers, p. 100. 


THE ORATORS 


45 


on the universal sense of justice, duty, law, and order, with 
much citation of authorities and legal precedents. Further- 
more, it is singularly devoid of ornament, with no superflu- 
ous words and few figures of speech. Nothing could be more 
severely simple, direct, and logical. There is no dainty phras- 
ing, but remarkable precision in choice of word and nice 
adjustment of the expression to the thought. One notices a 
large percentage of words of Latin origin. An irresistible 
chain of reasoning runs through the various units of dis- 
course and binds them together in strict accordance with the 
laws of unity, emphasis, and coherence. Beauty is constantly 
dispensed with to attain greater clearness and force. Its 
peculiar stylistic power lies in the momentum of heavy 
masses of words and periodic sentences, which produce a 
cumulative effect. His manner is always formal, even in his 
private letters, showing that this had become a mental habit. 
It has also all the other essential features of eighteenth cen- 
tury oratory. What prevents it from being merely an intel- 
lectual style is its strong moral undercurrent, whose down- 
right sincerity, conviction of truth, and appeal to the con- 
science, are most convincing. The reader is ever conscious of 
the great man’s honesty, and the under-note of emotion is 
the outward evidence of his intense moral earnestness. To 
read Calhoun is a good mental tonic. His lofty thoughts 
nobly expressed refresh the mind and brace the moral fiber 
like the pure, invigorating air of the mountains. 

Bobert Yonge Hayne (1791-1839) is now chiefly remem- 
bered throughout America as the orator who measured 
swords in debate with the mighty Webster in his prime, and 
who came off from the contest with honor and added laurels. 
Forensic fame soon becomes exaggerated by oral tradition, 
and often on calm perusal in the study the printed speech 
seems hardly to justify the reputation of the orator. Such 
is apt to be the experience of the student on the first reading 


46 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


of Hayne’s speeches. It is certain that the magnetic voice, 
the flashing eye, and the splendid presence of the man con- 
tributed much to the total effect. Like most long congres- 
sional speeches, Hayne’s efforts seem a sort of oratorical 
patch-work, his original utterances being pieced together 
with an excess of quotations from resolutions and other 
public documents. The long argumentative passages seem 
relieved only at great intervals by the purple patches of ora- 
tory. For these reasons considerable difficulty was found in 
making suitable selections for this book. Hayne’s most 
famous speech was made in the Senate on January 21, 
1830, during the running debate on Foote’s resolution. In 
marked contrast with Webster, whose speeches were more 
deliberate and finished literary productions, Hayne belonged 
to the class of impromptu, inspired orators, whose efforts are 
largely improvisational. One gains from the growing eulo- 
gies of Rhett, Pinckney, McDuffie, and Paul H. Hayne an 
impression of the tremendous force of his delivery. Webster 
was in his forty-ninth year, while Hayne was only in his 
^thirty-ninth. It was the latter’s first important speech in 
that august body, though he had occasionally addressed the 
Senate and displayed qualities of mind that seemed to justify 
his prestige in South Carolina. His bearing was frank, cour- 
teous, and conciliatory, his conversation easy and agreeable, 
and he was personally popular. He was, in the opinion of 
eye-witnesses, a worthy antagonist of the god-like Webster, 
and the most formidable opponent the New England orator 
had ever met, with the exception of Calhoun, who was at 
that time vice-president of the United States and presiding 
officer of the Senate. Hayne’s speech was undoubtedly a 
powerful effort, whether we view it from the standpoint of 
style, matter, or delivery. He dashed into debate, we are 
told, like the gallant Mameluke cavalry upon a charge. His 
stinging personal invective, his lucid exposition of state sov- 


THE ORATORS 


47 


ereignty, his masterly defense of slavery, impassioned vindi- 
cation of South Carolina, his arraignment of the Hartford 
convention, his telling citation of the Virginia and Kentucky 
resolutions, and his marshalling of such authorities as Jeffer- 
son and Madison in support of his contention — all combined 
to produce a remarkable forensic performance. His dis- 
tinctive stylistic characteristics are his fluency, his enthu- 
siasm, his brilliant use of figures, his effective climaxes, and 
his felicity in quotation. His range of reading was wide and 
choice showing chiefly the influence of Burke and Jefferson. 
The rest of his intellectual equipment was adequate, and his 
spirit was confident and aggressive; his command of the 
vocabulary of scorn, indignation, and vituperation was per- 
fect; and when he rose to the height of some great occasion 
he was superb, convincing, and masterful. Such endowment 
was destined to forge a masterpiece of eloquence, which in 
turn called into being the most sublime flight of America’s 
greatest orator. The proudest moment of his career was when 
he resigned his Senatorial seat to become Governor of South 
Carolina, and the leader of the Nullification movement. It 
was then as the spokesman and defender of a great common- 
wealth that he stood, though on a dangerous eminence, “the 
proud delight and confidence of all.” “His inaugural ad- 
dress,” says Rhett, “on assuming the office of Governor pene- 
trated the souls of all who heard him, and drew tears of 
kindred sympathy from some of the sternest of us. He was 
an orator in the full meaning of oratory, the art of persua- 
sion. Free and fast the words floated on his silvery voice, 
whilst ingenuous and manly candour gave potency to the 
arguments of his fine intellect.” Though he was neither our 
most polished writer nor our most profound and original 
thinker, he was a knightly and cultured gentleman and a 
peerless orator of the old school. 


48 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


The style of James Henry Hammond. (1807-1864) has 
much in common with that of Calhoun, of whom he was con- 
sidered a worthy successor. Its essential qualities are all seen 
in an able article which he wrote in defense of slavery for 
“Cotton is King,” and which is cast in the form of a letter 
to a Northern gentleman. His literary manner is formal, 
and differs from that now in vogue as widely as Dr. John- 
son’s prose in the Rambler differs from the idiomatic phrase- 
ology of his private journal. It flows like the current of a 
deep and stately river within its spacious banks. Its calm 
and mighty sweep is never retarded, neither is it accelerated. 
The rhythmic effect of his periods with their nicely balanced 
phrase and clause seems to belong to the heroic age and rise 
to the importance of the matters with which he had to deal. 
It is intellectual, but not coldly so, for one now and again 
catches a note of deep and tender feeling. It is a style emi- 
nently adapted to win victories in the forum and to justify 
the Southern civilization before the world. 

The oratory of George McDuffie (1788-1851), which was 
so celebrated in his own day, has become almost legendary. 
On analysis it will be found that McDuffie spoke the lan- 
guage of Hayne and Calhoun. He was less disposed to com- 
promise than Calhoun, and more given to violent invective, 
and in this respect his temperamental kinship with Hayne 
was closest. Few men of his State are remembered with 
more respect and admiration. “He and W. C. Preston,” says 
Meriwether, “were room-mates at college, and he was looked 
on as the Demosthenes of the State as Preston was considered 
the Cicero. Of George McDuffie the following incident was 
related by J. H. Thornwell, at the Yale alumni dinner in 
1852: ‘On one occasion, while Mr. McDuffie was a member 
of the Legislature, after he had made one of his splendid 
speeches, the question of the college came up. The venerable 
Judge Huger, then a member of the House, rose and said, in 


THE ORATORS 


49 


his peculiarly slow and emphatic style, “Mr. Speaker, if the 
South Carolina College had done nothing, sir, but produce 
that man, she would have amply repaid the State for every 
dollar that the State has ever expended, or ever will expend, 
Upon her.” ’ m McDuffie’s style, like his temperament, was 
passionate and spontaneous, but he succeeded in acquiring a 
rigid self-control and restraint of utterance which he rarely 
overstepped. Even in his most fervid moods he was always 
formal and studiously conventional, as in his bitter personal 
attack on Kandolph. His vocabulary, which is copious and 
florid, shows an excess of the Latin element and a preference 
for general as opposed to concrete phraseology. His “Eulogy 
of Hayne” might give one the impression that he was a mere 
rhetorician rather than a man of deep thought and vigorous 
action, but the facts of his strenuous life during which he 
held with eminent ability and distinction many arduous and 
difficult positions, will at once dissipate such a view. 

The names of the orators of South Carolina are legion. 
A brief mention of but a few others can here be attempted. 
While William Campbell Preston (1794-1860) was a mem- 
ber of the United States Senate he enjoyed a national repu- 
tation as the most finished orator of the dignified Southern 
school. His speeches give evidence of ample eloquence, apt- 
ness of illustration, ripe classical scholarship, and rhetorical 
charm. His own views in regard to the mission of the orator 
are fully given in his masterly eulogy of Hugh S. Legard. 
This speech also throws much light on the preeminence as- 
signed to rhetorical and classical studies in South Carolina 
College during his presidency. There are, unfortunately, 
but few specimens extant of the oratory of James Louis 
Petigru (1789-1863), the eminent lawyer and jurist of 
Charleston. His address on the fiftieth anniversary of the 
founding of South Carolina College in 1854 was one of his 


Meriwether’s History of Higher Education in South Carolina, p. 166. 


50 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


happiest efforts. The occasion afforded him an opportunity 
for exhibiting his special gifts in academic utterance. His 
eulogy of beloved and revered professors and his delightful 
reminiscences of former students are conceived and phrased 
in a chaste and finished style, and the past is made to appear 
in an atmosphere mellowed by fancy and friendship. All his 
writings abound, as did his personality, with wit, wisdom, 
and geniality, and are rich in Latin quotations and classical 
allusions. Among the many other great publicists and ora- 
tors of the mighty past whom South Carolinians hold in rever- 
ence may be mentioned Henry Laurens Pinckney ( 1794-1863 ) , 
Charles Cotesworth Pinckney (1746-1825), Thomas Pinck- 
ney (1748-1828), Charles Pinckney (1757-1824), Hugh Swin- 
ton Legard (1789-1843), Thomas Smith Grimkd (1786-1834), 
Langdon Cheves (1776-1857), William Harper (1790-1847), 
and Robert Barnwell Rhett (1800-1876). Each of them 
measured up fully to the best traditions of the school of 
formal classical oratory and was a genuine orator as defined 
by Aristotle and Quintilian. A single specimen of post- 
bellum oratory is given in the famous inaugural address of 
Wade Hampton (1818-1902). The reader will observe that 
it is distinctly more modern in the avoidance of rhetorical 
ornament and in the directness and almost conversational 
simplicity of its style. General Hampton, of course, made 
no pretensions to the graces of oratory, but the lofty char- 
acter of the man, the supreme importance of the occasion, 
and the interest of his subject, combined to make his formal 
public utterances extremely effective and memorable. 

South Carolina has also given to the country a number of 
divines who have attained national celebrity as pulpit orators 
and writers on religious, ethical, and educational subjects. 
Most prominent among her distinguished theologians towers 
the great James Henley Thornwell (1812-1862). A part 
of his writings were collected and edited in two stout volumes 


THE ORATORS 


51 


in 1871 by John B. Adger. His “Life and Letters” were 
published in 1875 by Benjamin M. Palmer. Before Thorn- 
well entered the Presbyterian ministry Calhoun recognized 
his ability and considered him “the coming man of the South 
and destined to take his place in the councils of the nation,” 
and the historian Bancroft, after dining with him in New 
York, presented him with a splendid copy of Aristotle, con- 
taining a Latin inscription pronouncing him “the most 
learned of the learned.” His celebrated “Letter to Governor 
Manning” (1853) is perhaps the strongest argument ever 
put forth in favor of the maintenance of a State college. 
This brilliant contribution to the educational thought of the 
State is equaled by his treatises on ethical and theological 
subjects, which marked him as one of the profoundest minds 
of the world. His “Discourses on Truth” (1855) attracted 
the favorable notice of Sir William Hamilton, the Scotch 
metaphysician, who said in a letter to the author, “I have 
read them with great interest, and no less admiration.” 
Though Benjamin Morgan Palmer (1818-1902) was for 
many years identified with New Orleans, he was by birth, 
family, and long residence a South Carolinian. For half a 
century he was regarded as perhaps the most eloquent pulpit 
orator in the South, and his church was thronged with visit- 
ors from every section and of all denominations, who were 
entranced by his noble and inspiring utterances. The pas- 
sage from his famous address, “The Present Crisis,” deliv- 
ered at Washington and Lee University soon after the war, 
is a beautiful specimen of his most finished and elaborate 
style. 

The following writers on religious and other subjects 
should also here be mentioned: John B. Adger (1810-1899), 
author of “My Life and Times”; Doctor James H. Carlisle 1 
(1825-), of Wofford College; Frederick Dalcho (1777-1836), 
who wrote an important “History of the Protestant Episcopal 


'Died October 21, 1909. 


52 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Church in South Carolina” and “Evidences of the Divinity of 
Our Saviour”; Edwin C. Dargan (1859-), who has written a 
valuable work on “Ecclesiology” ; Bishop Stephen Elliott 
(1806-1866), whose “Sermons” have been edited by Mr. 
Thomas M. Hanckel; Bishop John England (1786-1842), 
whose published writings comprise five volumes; Richard 
Fuller (1804-1876), an eminent clergyman of the Baptist 
Church; Bishop Christopher E. Gadsden (1785-1852), of the 
Episcopal Church; Alexander Garden (1686-1755), author of 
“Sermons” and “Letters to Whitefield” ; Doctor James L. Gir- 
ardeau (1825-1898), author of “Discussions of Philosophical 
Questions”; Bishop Alexander Gregg (1819-1893), the his- 
torian of the Cheraws; Alexander Hewat (1745-1829), pastor 
of the Scotch Church in Charleston, and author of “Sermons” 
and a “History of South Carolina and Georgia”; George 
Howe (1802-1883), who wrote a work on “Theological Edu- 
cation” and a “History of the Presbyterian Church in South 
Carolina”; Bishop W. B. W. Howe, whose “Sermons” have 
been edited by Bishop Ellison Capers; Bishop Patrick Nies- 
sen Lynch (1817-1882), who wrote a considerable number of 
books, the best known being “The Vatican Council” and “The 
Blood of St. J anuarius” ; Basil Manly ( 1825-1892 ) , the Bap- 
tist theologian who wrote “A Call to the Ministry” and “The 
Bible Doctrine of Inspiration Defended” ; Margaret Maxwell 
Martin ( 1817 - ) , author of “Day-Spring,” “Heroines of Early 
Methodism,” etc. ; James Warley Miles (1818-1875), who pub- 
lished a number of philosophical and theological essays; 
Thomas Smyth (1808-1873), author of fourteen religious 
works; Isaac Chanler, author of “The Doctrine of Glorious 
Grace” (1744) ; Dr. W. P. DuBose, author of “The Soteri- 
ology of the New Testament,” etc.; and Bishop Nathaniel 
Bowen, Drs. George Buist, Alexander Glennie, McCalla, Ger- 
vais, Cobia, and other authors of volumes of sermons. In 
this connection should be mentioned Bishop William Capers 


THE NOVELISTS 


53 


for his forceful and eloquent sermons and for his work in 
carrying Methodism from the sea to the northern boundary 
of the State. 


V 

THE NOVELISTS 

The brilliant coterie of literary men and women which was 
presided over in Charleston by William Gilmore Simms 
(1806-1870) has already been mentioned. With the excep- 
tion of Simms, Hayne, Timrod, Mrs. Gilman, Mrs. King, and 
perhaps one or two others, they were amateur writers, for the 
main passion and purpose of their lives was not literary. 
In point of time they followed the well-known group of New 
York writers, Irving, Brown, Bryant, and Cooper, but were 
contemporaries of the New Englanders, Emerson, Longfel- 
low, Hawthorne, Whittier, and Lowell. Though working in 
a variety of fields, the Charleston writers possessed much of 
the coherence of a school of letters. We have seen a striking 
instance of this intellectual comity in their persistent efforts 
to maintain a literary organ. Most of these magazines were 
financial failures, but at least two, The Southern Quar- 
terly Review (1842-1857), and Russell’s Magazine (1857- 
1860 ) , were, in contributors and contents, among the best in 
the United States. Several of them were under the editorial 
control of Simms, who was the moving spirit of the group, 
both by his sanguine and critical temperament and by the 
example of his literary productiveness, in which he was 
excelled by no other American. A complete bibliography 
of his works would contain the titles of nearly a hundred 
volumes. For forty years his prolific pen actually produced 
books at the rate of two a year. One cannot help thinking 
that had he lived in Boston he would to-day hold a much 


5-W 


54 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


higher position in the history of American literature. As 
it is, he is assigned by Mr. Richardson a paltry space of 
four pages to Cooper’s forty, and by Professor Wendell only 
two pages to Brown’s eleven. 

The fact that Simms succeeded Cooper in American his- 
torical romance suggests a comparison of their work. Both 
followed the general lines of romantic fiction perfected by 
Scott, though his influence on the New Yorker was less con- 
scious than on the South Carolinian. The Leatherstocking 
Tales appeared practically contemporaneously with the Wav- 
erley Novels, while “Martin Faber,” Simms’s first novel, was 
brought out in 1833, the year after the death of Scott. Both 
wrote too much, and the world has consequently already let 
the bulk of their work die. Out of Cooper’s thirty or more 
books, not over ten are ever read nowadays, except by the 
specialist, and half a dozen will include all the best novels 
of Simms. The muse of fiction judges the offerings of her 
devotees not by number or weight, but by far more ethereal 
standards. Simms should certainly be judged by what he 
ttrote at the highest level of artistic impulse. In range, 
Versatility, culture, and productivity, he surpassed Cooper. 
In the truthfulness of his portrayal of the Indian character 
and habits he may also challenge comparison with his pre- 
decessor. He has drawn the red man as he really was, a 
cruel, revengeful, and bloodthirsty savage. At the same time 
he has not stripped him of his primitive virtues — courage, 
endurance, gratitude, and love of his native forests and his 
tribe. If Cooper has been justly censured for being too sym- 
pathetic with the Indians, Simms should receive the credit 
for having achieved the truest characterization of them in 
our literature. This contribution, when once recognized, will 
alone make the South Carolina novelist a more important fig- 
ure. He is an example of a writer who barely missed supreme 
greatness, partly through faults of temperament and partly 


THE NOVELISTS 


55 


through adverse conditions of time and place. The reading 
public of Charleston was at that time exceedingly conserva- 
tive in literary matters and still preferred the classical school 
of the eighteenth century to the romantic writers of the 
nineteenth. This will account for their tendency to depre- 
ciate the type of romance which Simms gave them. He may 
also have been hindered by certain social and financial dis- 
abilities, of which he was keenly and at times pugnaciously 
sensible, but which were greatly improved by his second mar- 
riage to the daughter of a prominent planter, through whom 
he became the master of a fine estate. Too much emphasis, 
however, should not be placed on the question of social infe- 
riority, which some of his critics have exaggerated. More 
weight should be given to the general conditions which al- 
ways exist in an agricultural civilization. Chief among these 
latter were the scarcity or remoteness of publishers, the lack 
of a stimulating and wholesomely critical atmosphere, and 
above all, the need of a populous community to sustain the 
magazines and make the production of books remunerative. 
The business features of authorship are better understood 
now. 

The number of Simms’s books means, of course, hasty and 
careless writing. So we find his style, at its worst, wordy, 
unrestrained, and often interminably spun out. It is essen- 
tially extemporaneous, like that of some latter-day novelists 
who presumably dictate to a stenographer, and revise but 
little. His first effort was strong, but of the coarsest texture. 

In “Guy Rivers,” a tale of the gold mines of Georgia, he 
struck his pace, and made a literary sensation. Thus was 
auspiciously begun a series of stirring “Border Romances,” 
the scenes of which were laid in the remote South and South- 
west. None of these, however, represents his highest grade 
of composition. This we find in “The Yemassee” (1835), a 
romance of the early colonists and Indians of South Carolina. 


56 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


It marks the culmination of his career, and is a truly remark- 
able performance for a young man of twenty-nine, who had 
had no severe or technical training in his art. It is now 
generally regarded his most original and praiseworthy con- 
tribution to American fiction. In many respects it is an 
admirable historical canvas, crowded with life-size figures of 
the heroic age. The principal characters are splendidly real- 
ized and the exciting scenes and swift action in which they 
are involved are depicted with artistic sincerity. The style, 
even with its unevenness and homespun texture, seems ap- 
propriate in a narrative of the rude life of the frontier, and 
the informing spirit of the work is fresh and strong as befits 
the epic of a primitive race. In such finished scenes as the 
attack on the block-house, the saving of Occonestoga by his 
mother, and Bess Mathews’s adventure with the rattlesnake, 
the matter and the manner could hardly be more admirably 
adjusted to carry the story and vididly depict both character 
and background. “The Partisan” is the first and best of a 
series of “Revolutionary Romances,” in which the author 
deals in a vigorously imaginative way with the struggle 
between the Whigs and the Tories. Simms is frankly parti- 
san, but his attitude is readily excused on both patriotic and 
artistic grounds. Still it must be admitted that his patriots 
are too angelic and the loyalists too villainous to square with 
the truth of history. On its purely artistic side the por- 
traiture of Lieutenant Porgy and the magnificent description 
of the cypress swamp, are enough to make any work of fiction 
memorable. “Katharine Walton,” another of the same series, 
contains a lively narrative of the British occupation of 
Charles Town, and the dialogue, in which the author did 
not usually excel, is quite cleverly handled. . 

In any final estimate of Simms’s contribution to American 
literature, the critic must take fully into account his techni- 
cal and material equipment and his extraordinary accom- 


THE NOVELISTS 


57 


plishment. He has left us the best portraiture of Southern 
character in provincial and Revolutionary times. He has also 
drawn the most realistic and impressive pictures of scenery 
in the Low-Country of South Carolina. The most truthful 
and unidealized characterization of the primitive Indian is 
found in his romances. His special power is that of rapid, 
vigorous, and fascinating story-telling. He has, moreover, 
displayed creative imagination of an order that approaches 
greatness. There is, besides, an artistic sincerity and an 
essential adherence to the truth of nature in his work that 
is highly satisfactory and makes for perpetuity. He knew 
and recorded the legends of his native State as no one else, 
and he alone of all our novelists has thus preempted this 
large and important field of early local history and tradition. 
In addition to this very remarkable literary bequest, Simms 
has left — what is unique in our history — an inspiring exam- 
ple of personal independence and courage in pursuing the 
career of a professional man of letters in the face of most 
disheartening conditions. 

After Simms the only other of our older writers of fiction 
who has attained national repute is Judge Augustus Bald- 
win Longstreet (1790-1870), whom Georgia shares equally, 
perhaps, with South Carolina. The claims of this State are 
based on three facts: he himself asserted that he was born 
in South Carolina ; he resided in this State for many years ; 
and much of his literary work was either written here or 
deals with South Carolina scenes, incidents, and characters, 
and was inspired by them. His “Georgia Scenes,” which is 
easily accessible in reprints and extracts, is one of the fun- 
niest, most original, and popular books ever written in the 
South, if not in America. It is a rare collection of laugh- 
able stories of horse-swapping, gander-pulling, country danc- 
ing, etc., and gave its versatile author, who was successively 
lawyer, legislator, judge, Methodist minister, and college 


58 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


president, a rather undignified reputation. The book was 
originally written as a series of newspaper sketches of lowly 
life in Georgia, and collected in a volume, as the author says, 
“in the hope that chance would bring them to light when 
time would give them an interest.” This shrewd forecast for 
his queer literary waif has been amply verified, for it is now 
prized as one of the raciest and most entertaining pictures 
of life in the early part of the past century. The oddities, 
drolleries, and adventures of Ned Brace, Tobias Swift, 
Hardy Slow, and Kansy Sniffle are conceived in a vein of 
rough-and-tumble though genuine and irresistible humor; 
some of the sketches, such as the debating society, are rather 
heavy, and others, such as the gander-pulling, verge on the 
vulgar and repulsive; and the author is too much given to 
moralizing. He turned his pen to fiction only once again, 
and the result was a rather didactic book entitled “Master 
William Mitten” (1864). Though composed in a clumsy 
and wooden style, this story of “a youth of brilliant talents, 
who was ruined by bad luck,” holds the reader’s interest and 
contains under the guise of irony a powerful moral. It gives 
the best account ever written of Dr. Moses Waddel’s famous 
school at Willington, where so many distinguished men were 
educated. Longstreet’s chief merits as a writer are his 
shrewd knowledge of human nature and analysis of the 
results of conduct, his keen sense of humor in character and 
situation, his vivid and- picturesque realism and scrupulous 
fidelity to the facts of local life. 

Susan Petigru King (1826-1875) was the most distin- 
guished woman novelist of ante-bellum South Carolina. Her- 
self a brilliant member of the gay and fashionable society 
of Charleston, which was, besides, the most select and aris- 
tocratic in America, she took as her theme the contemporary 
life around her in the city and neighboring plantations, and 
treated it in a graceful and piquant way. In spite of a pro- 


THE NOVELISTS 


59 


nounced romantic pose and an over-fondness for French 
phrases — two fads of the time — her style is strong and suffi- 
cient to convey her thought. In her “Busy Moments of an 
Idle Woman” (1854), “Lily” (1855), “Sylvia’s World” 
(1859), “Gerald Gray’s Wife,” and “An Actress in High 
Life,” Mrs. King (as she is better known, although she 
became the wife of C. 0. Bowen late in life) satirized with 
point and vigor the social life in which she moved. Her 
favorite motives are love-affairs with the inevitable coquetry, 
quarrels, and reconciliations attendant. In the management 
of her plots she shows considerable mastery of modern tech- 
nique, her characters are clearly visualized and her dialogue 
is sparkling with banter and repartee. “Sylvia’s World” is 
a clever psychological study of two young lovers of incom- 
patible dispositions. “Crimes Which the Law Does Not 
Reach” is a volume of short stories of a tragic cast, which 
contain powerful situations, but strangely combine the obvi- 
ously didactic and the morbidly melodramatic with disas- 
trous results to their artistic effect. 

Henry Junius Nott (1797-1837) was the author of 
“Novellettes of a Traveler” (1834), a book which overflows 
with a kind of boisterous humor that was exceedingly popu- 
lar in the old South. The first volume is prefaced by an 
account of the life and adventures of the supposititious 
author, Thomas Singularity, journeyman printer, from whose 
knapsack the succeeding “odds and ends” are taken. Thomas 
is a sharper, “deadbeat,” and unscrupulous rascal — a lineal 
descendant of the rogues of the early picaresque romances — 
who has a variety of ludicrous escapades, in each of which 
he is ignominiously brought to grief. The rest of the book 
consists of a collection of grotesque and whimsical short 
stories, which are all bubbling over with irony and rough, 
farcical humor. 


60 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Considerations of space admit of only a bare mention of 
the other earlier novelists. Mrs. Mary Howard Schoolcraft 
was the author of a strong, old-fashioned romance called “The 
Black Gauntlet,” a tale of plantation life in South Carolina, 
well-thumbed copies of which are still occasionally found in 
old libraries. Marion Legard Beeves (1854-) wrote a number 
of once popular stories, the best of which are “Ingemisco,” 
“Randolph Honor,” “Sea-Drift,” “A Little Maid of Arcadie,” 
“Wearithorne,” and “Pilot Fortune.” Isaac Harby’s novels, 
“The Gordian Knot,” “Alexander Severus,” and a play “Al- 
berti,” have been long out of print. Other novels and novel- 
ists of this period are: Washington Allston’s “Romance of 
Monaldi”; the “Story Book,” “Pop Gun,” “Six Nightcaps,” 
etc., by Frances Elizabeth Barrow ( Aunt Fanny ) ; Caroline 
Howard Gilman’s “Ruth Raymond,” etc. ; “Robert Sanders,” 
by Thomas Hart (1845-) ; Henry Washington Hilliard’s “De- 
Vane, a Story of Plebeians and Patricians” (1865) ; Isaac 
Edward Holmes’s “Recreations 6f George Telltale” (1822) ; 
“Above the Clouds,” by Silas McDowell (1795-1855) ; “How 
They Kept the Faith,” by Anna Raymond Stillman (1855-) ; 
Theresa Hammond Strickland’s “Under the Ban”; Mary T. 
Gaillard’s “Realities of Life,” and Helena Wells’s “The Step- 
Mother” (1799). The most important plays of this period 
are William Crafts’s “The Sea Serpent” (1819) ; “The Cor- 
sair,” by Edwin Clifford Holland (1794-1824) ; James Work- 
man’s “Liberty in Louisiana” (1803) ; William Ioor’s “The 
Battle of Eutaw Springs,” and “Independence” (1805) ; 
“Foscari,” “Mysteries of the Castle,” “Louisiana Preserved,” 
and “Modern Honor,” by John Blake White (1781-1857), and 
“Americans in Paris,” by William Henry Hurlburt (1827- 
1895). 

For many years after the war of secession the State was 
paralyzed as much in her literary as in her industrial devel- 
opment. It required time for the people to adjust themselves 


THE NOVELISTS 


61 


to the new economic conditions. There were SAveeping 
changes in their manner of living, their points of view, and 
their literary interpretation of things. Some of the imme- 
diate benefits to literature were a lessening of sectional self- 
consciousness and an increase of mental subjectiveness, — 
tAvo factors conducive to the creative faculty, — a greater 
openness to conviction and to imitation of Avhat was foreign, 
the destruction of the spirit of isolation and provincialism, 
and above all, the supreme artistic merit of taking pains Avith 
their work. In time there came a strong impulse toward a 
less artificial style of composition. This literary renaissance 
of the South was led by Page, Lanier, Hayne, Cable, Harris, 
Russell, Wilson, Allen, and Miss Murfree, and was marked 
by such originality, fertility, popularity, and genuine artistry 
that by 1880 this section attained and held the literary lead- 
ership of the nation. Virginia, Georgia, Louisiana, and Ten- 
nessee were in the lead at first, but in recent years have 
shown signs of falling off, while South Carolina, which Avas 
retarded longer by Reconstruction troubles, is now for the 
first time coming more to the front. No other State in the 
Union has a richer, more inexhaustible, or more romantic 
heritage, of Avhich our people, realizing its value, are begin- 
ning to avail themselves as literary material. Miss Sarah 
Barnwell Elliott, a daughter of Bishop Stephen Elliott, has 
delineated the picturesque mountaineers in her “Jerry” and 
“The Felmeres,” and satirized the gay society of NeAvport in 
“John Paget.” Mr. Elliott Crayton McCants, of Anderson, 
has made a strong and sympathetic study of the sandhi llers 
and other folk of the interior portion of the State in his “In 
the Red Hills” (1903). Mrs. Malvina Sarah Waring, of 
Columbia, has taken the same theme and treated it with 
great dramatic power in “That Sandhiller” ( 1904 ) , and is the 
author also of a novel entitled “The Lion’s Share” (1888), 
and a number of short stories and poems of merit. In “The 


62 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Carolinians” (1904) Miss Annie L. Sloan, of Charleston, has 
charmingly told an old-fashioned love-story deftly interwoven 
with the stirring events of the year 1718 in Charles Town. 
She has handled her subject with rare sympathy, the nar- 
rative is picturesque, the dialogue is vivacious, the descrip- 
tions have the flavor of the soil, and the chivalry, endur- 
ance, and splendid courage of the men and women of colonial 
days are finely portrayed. “Thirty- Four Years” (1878), 
written by Mrs. Celina E. Means, of Spartanburg, and pub- 
lished under the pen-name of “John Marchmont,” is a novel 
of the Reconstruction era, and was probably the first to 
introduce the famous Kuklux Klan as romantic material. 
Mrs. Means has also written an interesting volume entitled 
“Pdlmetto Stories.” Another tale of Reconstruction is Doc- 
tor J. W. Daniel’s “A Maid of the Foot-Hills” ( 1905 ) , which 
gives a true picture of carpet-bag government and introduces 
with good effect the important and dramatic red-shirt move- 
ment. This author has written also several other pieces of 
fiction, including “The Girl in Checks,” “Cateechee,” and 
“Out From Under Caesar’s Frown.” Mr. Theodore D. Jervey, 
of Charleston, has made a valuable contribution to the litera- 
ture of Reconstruction with “The Elder Brother” (1905), 
one of the really good things in recent fiction. It deals in a 
masterly way with the vital questions that confronted the 
State in the post-bellum period, especially the relations of the 
two races, and vividly portrays the social and political con- 
ditions that then prevailed in lower South Carolina. In the 
rare and difficult art of short-story writing the State has 
produced a master-craftsman in Dr. Stanhope Sams, of Co- 
lumbia. With such delicately artistic and dramatically 
powerful stories as “The Golden Age of Poincarrd” and “A 
Restored Identity,” he has earned a national reputation and 
made an original and brilliant contribution to American 
fiction. Since taking up his residence in this State, Mr. 


THE NOVELISTS 


63 


John Bennett, the brilliant author of “Master Skylark” and 
“Barnaby Lee,” has written an eminently strong romance 
redolent of the cypress swamps entitled “The Treasure of 
Peyre Gaillard.” Thomas Cooper DeLeon, journalist, nov- 
elist, and playwright (b. Columbia, S. C., 1839), since 1868 
a resident of Mobile, Alabama, is the author of a number of 
popular novels, among which may be mentioned “Creole and 
Puritan,” “A Fair Blockade Breaker,” and “The Puritan’s 
Daughter.” 

In addition to the works just mentioned, the following are 
deserving of notice: Miss Kate Lilly Blue’s “The Hand of 
Fate,” Major O. J. Bond’s “Amzi,” Abbott Hall Brisbane’s 
“Ralphton,” Mrs. M. W. Coleman’s “The Blue Chrysanthe- 
mum,” Miss Fanny M. P. Deas’s “The Little Match Girl” and 
“The Lost Diamond,” Mrs. Florella Hunter’s “Annie Oak- 
ley,” Miss Clara Dargan Maclean’s “Riverlands” and “Light 
of Love,” Mr. Ambrose E. Gonzales’s “Silhouettes,” Professor 
J. G. Clinkscales’s “How Zach Came to College,” Mr. E. P. 
Henderson’s “Autobiography of Arab,” Mr. C. S. Reid’s “Isa- 
queena” ; “Beholding as in a Glass,” “A Tower in the Desert,” 
and “The Blue Hen’s Chickens,” by Mrs. Virginia Durant 
Young (d. 1906), Mrs. H. H. Ravenel’s “Ashurst,” and Miss 
Annie Barnes’s “The Little Lady of the Fort,” “Little Betty 
Blue,” “The Lass of Dorchester,” and “Mistress Moppett,” 
Edwin DeLeon’s “Askaros Kassis,” Stephen T. Robinson’s 
“The Shadow of the War,” Mrs. Sally Chapin’s “Fitz Hugh 
St. Clair, the South Carolina Rebel Boy,” William Henry 
Johnson and Gabriel Manigault, each of whom published 
several novels; W. B. Seabrook’s “Saved by a Woman” 
(1884), Henry D. Capers’s “Belleview” (1884), and Zach 
McGhee’s “The Dark Corner” (1909). These and other 
writers are faithfully interpreting actual life and native 
character. The great war has fallen into retrospect, and its 
direful memories are now so mellowed by the magic touch 


64 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


of time that all its wonderful romances and even its heart- 
breaking tragedies are capable of being tenderly and truth- 
fully immortalized by the lovely hand of art. Some of our 
novelists are also making an honest effort to give the world 
an unhampered expression of contemporary life, and if their 
work is not allowed to sink to a commercial basis, we may 
hope ere long to see its present brilliant promise fulfilled. 


VI 

THE HISTORIANS 

Not only has South Carolina taken a conspicuous part in 
making history, but she has been prolific in historians, who 
from the earliest colonial times have preserved a full and 
often graphic record of public events in the form of annals, 
journals, letters, chronicles, pamphlets, and formal history. 
The writing of history was indeed one of the most charac- 
teristic ways in which the literary impulse of our people ex- 
pressed itself, and so numerous are the historians that we 
must content ourselves with a brief discussion of the more 
prominent and a bare mention of the great majority. 

In the provincial and revolutionary period were Francis 
Yonge, Henry Laurens (1724-1792), William Henry Dray- 
ton (1742-1779), David Ramsay (1749-1815), Alexander 
Hewat (1745-1829), Arthur Middleton (1742-1787), John 
Laurens (1755-1782), William Moultrie (1730-1805), Alex- 
ander Garden (1757-1829), and Eliza Wilkinson. The writ- 
ings of the brilliant and incorruptible patriot, Henry Lau- 
rens, of Charleston, were extensive, most of them being still 
in manuscript, and are of considerable importance as sources 
of material for historical students. The “Narrative of the 
Capture of Henry Laurens” (1780), etc., is written in a sim- 
ple, interesting, and matter-of-fact style, much like that of 


THE HISTORIANS 


65 


Franklin. Eliza Wilkinson was a witty and patriotic lady 
of Charleston. Her “Letters,” some of which were published 
by Mrs. Gilman in 1839, the rest being still in manuscript, 
give us a charming picture of her experiences during and 
after the siege of 1780. Her style is surprisingly straightfor- 
ward and modern, which is due, no doubt, partly to the form 
as well as to her personality. Chief Justice Drayton, besides 
writing a number of patriotic pamphlets, left in manuscript 
two volumes of “Notes on the Revolution in the South,” which 
were freely used by his distinguished son, Governor John 
Drayton, in the preparation of his “Memoirs of the Ameri- 
can Revolution” (1821), a work which relates chiefly to 
South Carolina. Alexander Hewat, the pastor of the old 
Scotch church in Charleston, published a “History of South 
Carolina and Georgia” in 1779. 

Doctor David Ramsay’s “History of South Carolina” 
(1809) in two solid volumes brings the record down from 
the earliest times to 1808. It shows a considerable amount 
of research, and is composed in a stately style comporting 
with the author’s idea of the dignity of history. The book is 
conceived in a judicial spirit, and is written in a quiet, re- 
strained manner without meretricious ornament. 

In the next generation came the post-revolutionary group, 
among whom were John Drayton (1776-1822), Edward Rut- 
ledge (1797-1832), Henry Laurens Pinckney (1794-1863), 
Joseph Johnson (1776-1862), author of a readable work 
called “Traditions and Reminiscences of the Revolution” 
(1851), William Bullen Johnson (1782-1862), William John- 
son (1771-1834), and Ralph Izard, whose “Correspondence” 
(1774-1804), was published with a memoir by his daughter, 
Mrs. Anne Deas. 

The most important name in the ante-bellum period is 
William Henry Trescot (1822-1898), who is known rather 
as a diplomat of international reputation than as a man of 


66 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


letters. We may claim for him, however, with confidence a 
secure place as one of the important historians of the coun- 
try. In his special field, the diplomatic history of the United 
States, his exhaustive researches alone entitle him to the dis- 
tinction of being ranked as a pioneer. His most important 
writings, “The Diplomacy of the Revolution” (1852) and 
“The Diplomatic History of the Administrations of Wash- 
ington and Adams” (1857), comprise a vast amount of origi- 
nal investigation and are indispensable authorities on the 
relations of the young republic to foreign nations. Trescot 
was a good representative of the courtly culture and ability 
of the South. By temperament and habit a student, learned 
in the law, and trained in the school of statecraft, he was 
conversant with the theory as well as the machinery of mod- 
ern government. For his chosen career he was as well 
endowed by nature and equipped by special study as any 
diplomat in America. We note in his style a distinction of 
manner, a consciousness of strength, an exactness in his 
choice of words, and a careful weighing of phrase and clause. 
It has much in common with the formal manner and gravely 
decorous rhetoric of eighteenth century English prose. It 
is coldly intellectual, severely bare of ornament, but rises on 
occasion to a plane of fervid eloquence. One can hardly 
imagine a style more felicitously adapted to its subject- 
matter. Within his self-imposed limitations Trescot was a 
master of the art of lucid and effective expression. 

There are several other less important writers of this 
period. B. R. Carroll published two volumes of “Historical 
Collections of South Carolina” in 1836. The first volume 
gives a narrative of the discoveries of the Spanish, French, 
and English, together with a reprint of Doctor Hewat’s 
“Historical Account of South Carolina and Georgia” (1779) ; 
the second contains pamphlets by Robert Horne (1666), 
Samuel Wilson (1682), Secretary to the Lords Proprietors, 


THE HISTORIANS 


67 


T. A., supposed to be Thomas Ashe (1680), Governor John 
Archdale (1707), Jean Pierre Purry (1731), Governor 
Glen (1761), George Chalmers, J. Oldmixon (1708), Doc- 
tor Milligan (1770), Humphrey, and Colonel Moore (1704), 
also King Charles IPs second Charter to the Proprietors, 
Locke’s “Fundamental Constitution for Carolina,” and an 
account of the Spanish depredations from the first settlement 
to the year 1739. Bishop Alexander Gregg (1819-1893) was 
the author of a “History of the Old Cheraws,” a work of 
such rare interest that it was republished in 1905, and edited 
by Colonel John J. Dargan. Professor Maximilian LaBorde 
( 1804-1873 ) wrote an exceedingly valuable “History of South 
Carolina College” (1859), which is still the most elaborate 
work of the kind south of the Potomac. Judge John Belton 
O’Neall (1793-1863), of Newberry, wrote two volumes, “The 
Annals of Newberry” (1858) and “The Bench and Bar of 
South Carolina” (1859), which are still highly prized for 
their graphic pen-pictures of distinguished men and as store- 
houses of local history. Professor William James Rivers 
(b. 1822), of Charleston and Columbia, has written the most 
useful and authoritative “History of South Carolina” (1856) 
that appeared prior to the work of McCrady. Other authors 
with their works are: Frederick Dalcho (1777-1836) wrote 
“Historic Account of the Protestant Episcopal Church in 
South Carolina”; Robert Wilson Gibbes (1809-1846) com- 
piled “Documentary History of the American Revolution,” 
in three volumes (1853, 1855, 1857) ; John H. Logan (1822- 
1885) wrote a “History of Upper South Carolina” (1859) ; 
Christopher Gustavus Memminger (1803-1888) wrote “The 
Book of Nullification” ; William Hayne Simmons’s “History 
of the Seminoles”; William Gilmore Simms, who, in addi- 
tion to his more purely literary productions, found time to 
write an interesting short “History of South Carolina” 
(1840), and biographies of Captain John Smith, Chevalier 


68 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Bayard, General Marion, and General Greene. “The Life of 
Francis Marion” (1809), by Mason Locke Weems (1760- 
1825), is a “military romance,” which is sometimes classed 
as biography. This much criticized work has no historical 
value, but is destined to live as fiction. It is proper to state 
here that Professor Trent, Mr. Lewisohn, and other critics 
include Weems, who traveled through this State as a book 
agent and died at Beaufort, among the South Carolina 
writers. Our claim on him, however, is, in my judgment, 
too slight to be entertained. 

The post-bellum period has added some lasting contribu- 
tions to the history of the State. First in interest and value 
is the monumental “History of South Carolina” in four sub- 
stantial volumes of more than eight hundred pages each, by 
Gen. Edward McCrady (1833-1903). This truly great work 
has given South Carolina the distinction of possessing the 
most exhaustive and scholarly history of any State in the 
Union. The author’s conception of his duty as an historian 
is thoroughly modern. He shows sound judgment in the 
selection and condensation of his material, avoids the vaga- 
ries of narrowness and preconception, and never allows him- 
self to sacrifice fact to imagination. With a constant and 
honest desire to discover and record the truth, he yet does 
not ignore the atmosphere of adventure that surrounds the 
settlement of the Carolinas, and vitalizes the narrative of 
those early chaotic times with a touch of romance. Nor is 
there lack of realistic detail. Without tedious generaliza- 
tion we are supplied with a satisfactory analysis of the causes 
of things. Liberal in its estimate of men and measures, tem- 
perate and philosophical in spirit, the work commends itself 
to the general reader by its dramatic movement and readable 
style, and to the investigator by its scientific method and 
scholarly tone. One may regret the absence of literary finish, 
picturesqueness, and vigor of imagination, but it should be 


THE HISTORIANS 


69 


borne in mind that this work belongs not so much to the 
literature of feeling as to the literature of knowledge, and 
that since its appeal is obviously to the intellectual faculties, 
it would be unfair to expect a preponderance of aesthetic 
qualities. 

The eminent historian and man of letters, Prof. Henry 
Alexander White, is a native of Virginia, but has been, since 
1900, a resident of South Carolina. While occupying the 
chair of history in Washington and Lee University, he wrote 
for The Heroes of the Nations series a popular “Life of 
Robert E. Lee,” a critical work entitled “The Origin of the 
Pentateuch,” and a monograph on “The Scotch-Irish in 
America.” Since coming to Columbia he has written two 
school “Histories of the United States,” a “History of South 
Carolina,” and a “Life of Stonewall Jackson” (1909). 
Dr. White’s books are admirable examples of literary bio- 
graphy and history, being at once judicial, scholarly and 
entertaining. His pen-portraits of famous men are vitalized 
by a warm human touch, and his narratives of heroic deeds 
are brightened by much grace of style. 

There are a number of other historical works in this group, 
which, though more specialized in scope, are of great interest. 
Such are: Colonel John Peyre Thomas’s admirable “History 
of the South Carolina Military Academy” ( 1893 ) , Professor 
David Duncan Wallace’s “Constitutional History of South 
Carolina,” General (afterwards Bishop) Ellison Capers’s 
“South Carolina in Confederate Military History,” Doctor 
George Howe’s “History of the Presbyterian Church in South 
Carolina” (1870), Mr. Colyer Meriwether’s “History of 
Higher Education in South Carolina” ( 1889 ) , Mr. D. Augus- 
tus Dickert’s “History of Kershaw’s Brigade” ;cMr. James 
Fitz-James Caldwell’s “History of McGowan’s Brigade,” 
Major James Lide Coker’s “History of Company E, 6th Regi- 
ment, and Company G, 9th Regiment, S. C. V.,” General J. 


6— W 


70 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


W. Floyd’s “South Carolina in the Spanish-American War” 
(1901), Rev. Dr. John Johnson’s “Defense of Charleston Har- 
bor” (1890), Samuel DuBose’s “History of the Huguenots of 
South Carolina,” “South Carolina Women in the Confed- 
eracy” (1903), edited by Mrs. Thomas Taylor, Mrs. Augus- 
tine T. Smyth, Mrs. August Kohn, Miss Poppenheim, and 
Miss Martha B. Washington, “History of Methodism in South 
Carolina” (1882), by Alfred Mica j ah Shipp (1819-1887) ; 
T. H. Garrett’s “History of the Saluda Baptist Association,” 
Watson B. Duncan’s “Twentieth Century Sketches,” Colonel 
James G. Gibbes’s “The Burning of Columbia,” Dr. T. Gail- 
lard Thomas’s “Early Huguenots of South Carolina,” Robert 
Lathan’s “History of the Union Associate Reformed Church,” 
“Critical History of the Mexican War,” by Marcus Claudius 
Marcellus Hammond (1814-1876) ; Rabbi Barnett A. Elzas’s 
“The Jews of South Carolina” (1905), Messrs Thomas J. 
Kirkland and Robert M. Kennedy’s “Historic Camden” 
(1905), Mr. Waddy Thompson’s “History of the United 
States,” Mr. John S. Reynolds’s “History of Reconstruction 
in South Carolina” ( 1906 ) , and Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn’s “His- 
tory of Literature in South Carolina,” published in The News 
and Courier in 1903. Histories of South Carolina have been 
written in this period by James Wood Davidson, John A. 
Chapman, Mr. John Langdon Weber, Col J. J. Dargan, and 
Dr. Henry Alexander White. The histories of several coun- 
ties have been written, including John A. Chapman’s “An- 
nals of Newberry” (a continuation of O’Neail’s work) and 
“History of Edgefield County” (1897), Dr. J. B. O. Land- 
rum’s “History of Spartanburg County,” Mr. A. S. Salley, 
Jr.’s “History of Orangeburg County” (1898), also compiler 
or editor of about twenty other volumes of historical mate- 
rials. Mr. W. W. Sellers’s “History of Marion County,” and 
Mr. Thomas’s “History of Marlboro County.” 

Closely related to history are the biographical works, 


THE HISTORIANS 


71 


which are numerous and in some cases of more than local 
interest. Among the latter may be mentioned: “The Story 
of My Life” (1884), by James Marion Sims (1813-1883); 
“My Life and Times,” by John B. Adger (1810-1899) ; “Life 
of John Bachman” (1790-1874), by Katharine Rutledge 
Bachman (1827-) ; Mary Boykin Chesnut’s “A Diary from 
Dixie” (1861-1865), edited by Isabella D. Martin and Myrta 
Lockett Avary (1905), Memoirs of Jonathan Maxcy, Robert 
Y. Hayne, and Andrew Jackson, by Henry Laurens Pinckney 
(1794-1863) ; “Life of Thomas Pinckney,” by O. 0. Pinckney 
(1812-1899) ; Mr. Edward L. Wells’s “Wade Hampton and 
His Cavalry,” Mr. Gustavus M. Pinckney’s “Life of Calhoun” 
(1903), William John Grayson’s “Biographical Sketch of 
James Louis Petigru” (1866), Benjamin M. Palmer’s “Life 
and Letters of James H. Thornwell,” David Ramsey’s “Life of 
Washington” (1807), William Dobein James’s “Life of Ma- 
rion”; “Life and Times of Bertrand du Guesclin,” by David 

F. Jamison (1810-1864) ; “Memoir of Nathan P. Knapp,” by 
William Bullen Johnson (1782-1862); “Life of John G. 
Landrum” (1883), by Harrison P. Griffith; “Memoirs of 
Catherine Elizabeth Smelt,” by Moses Waddel (1770-1840) ; 
“Marginalia or Gleanings from an Army Notebook,” by F. 

G. DeFontaine (“Personne”) ; “Life and Times of William 
Lowndes Yancey,” by John W. DuBose (1836-) ; Cadwalader 
Jones’s “Genealogical History,” J. Leland Kennedy’s “Life 
of Pierson,” Mr. H. E. Ravenel’s “Ravenel Records,” Mrs. 
Harriott Horry Ravenel’s “Life of Eliza Pinckney” (1896) 
and “Life and Times of William Lowndes” (1901), and Mr. 
Charles Edward Leverett’s “Sketches of Calhoun,” Dr. Henry 
Nelson Snyder’s “Life of Sydney Lanier,” etc. 

Under this class belong also such miscellaneous sketches 
as “Reminiscences of Public Men” (1883) ; “Sketches of Emi- 
nent American Statesmen” (1887), “Reminiscences with 
Speeches and Addresses” (1889) and “Letters to His Wife,” 


72 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


by Governor Benjamin Franklin Perry (1805-1894) ; Judge 
Joshua H. Hudson’s “Reminiscences and Sketches” (1904), 
Mr. Julian A. Selby’s “Memorabilia and Anecdotal Reminis- 
cences of Columbia” (1905), Mr. Jacob N. Cordozo’s “Remi- 
niscences of Charleston,” Mr. John B. Carwile’s “Reminis- 
cences of Newberry,” Mr. Charles Fraser’s Reminiscences of 
Charleston,” Dr. Samuel D. Magill’s “Reminiscences of Wil- 
liamsburg County,” Dr. Maurice E. Moore’s “Reminiscences 
of York,” Mr. Edwin J. Scott’s “Random Recollections of a 
Long Life,” “Thirty Years of My Life on Three Continents,” 
by Edwin DeLeon (1828-1891) ; Arthur P. Ford’s “Life in the 
Confederate Army” (1905), Marion Johnstone Ford’s “Ex- 
periences and Sketches” (1905), “The Centennial Celebra- 
tion of South Carolina College” (1905), edited by Professor 
Andrew Charles Moore, Professor John P. Thomas, Jr.’s 
“The Formation of Political and Judicial Subdivisions in 
South Carolina,” Col. U. R. Brooks’s “Butler and His 
Cavalry,” and “South Carolina Bench and Bar” (1909), and 
Professor Edwin L. Green’s “The Indians of South Carolina” 
(1904). Historical sketches by Wade Hampton Manning. 

VII 

THE ESSAYISTS. 

The contribution of our writers to the literary essay has 
not been extensive, but some of it is of enduring quality. 
The great political essayists, Middleton, Lowndes, Drayton, 
Calhoun, Hammond, Pinckney, McDuffie, Havne, Preston, 
Rutledge, and Trescot, have been considered under the sec- 
tions on orators and historians. We have seen that both in 
bulk and ability their work has not been equaled by that of 
the publicists of any other State. We shall now endeavor 
to show that South Carolina has produced also men who 
have written scientific, critical, economic, educational, and 


THE ESSAYISTS 


73 


philosophical monographs and treatises, many of which have 
been recognized by scholars as original additions to universal 
knowledge, while others have won distinction by the strength 
or beauty of their style. First of all should be mentioned 
the names of the purely scientific writers whose works, 
though they are an honor to the scholarship of the State, do 
not belong to the jurisdiction of literature proper. Among 
these distinguished scientists are: John Bachman (1790- 
1874), of Charleston, Stephen Elliott (1771-1830), the author 
of “The Botany of South Carolina and Georgia”; the biolo- 
gist, John Edwards Holbrook (1794-1871), of Charleston; 
the geologist, Francis S. Holmes, of Charleston ; the ethnolo- 
gist, Josiah Clark Nott (1804-1873), of Columbia; the bota- 
nist, Francis Peyre Porcher (1825-1895), of Charleston; the 
botanist, Henry William Ravenel (1814-1887), of Berkeley; 
David Ramsay, who, in addition to his historical works, pub- 
lished several medical treatises; William Charles Wells, of 
Charles Town, who preceded Darwin in formulating the the- 
ory of natural selection and was the first to announce the 
present accepted theory of dew ; and the eminent scientist and 
divine, Dr. James Woodrow, for many years Professor of Nat- 
ural Science in connection with Revelation in the Columbia 
Theological Seminary, and a Professor and President of 
South Carolina College, whose best-known work is a pro- 
found treatise on “Evolution” (1888). 

The narratives of travel constitute a popular class of writ- 
ings. It includes some of the earliest literature produced in 
the State, viz. : Robert Horne’s “Description of the Province 
of Carolina” (1666) ; Samuel Wilson’s, John Archdale’s, 
Thomas Ashe’s, Jean Pierre Purry’s, James Glen’s, J. Old- 
mixon’s, Doctor Milligan’s, and John Lawson’s historical and 
descriptive pamphlets on the same subject, most of which 
have been mentioned above ; “Letters from Geneva,” by Fran- 
cis Kinloch (1755-1826) ; “Army Correspondence in the 


74 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

Years 1777-8,” by John Laurens (1755-1782) ; and Governor 
John Drayton’s “Tour Through the Northern and Eastern 
States” (1794) and “A View of South Carolina” (1802). 
Other books of travel are: “Notes on Mexico,” by Joel Rob- 
ert Poinsett (1779-1857) ; “Recollections of Mexico,” by Hon. 
Waddy Thompson (1804-1880) ; J. C. C. Newton’s “Japan: 
The Country, Court, and People”; “Travels,” by Alexander 
Smith Taylor (1817-1876) ; “Western Africa,” by Doctor J. 
Leighton Wilson (1809-1886) ; Rev. Philips Verner’s “Pio- 
neering in Central Africa” (1904) ; “Spain and the Span- 
iards” (1861), by James Johnston Pettigrew (1828-1863) ; 
Edwin DeLeon’s “Thirty Years of My Life on Three Conti- 
nents.” Doctor James A. B. Scherer, the accomplished young 
President of Newberry College, 1 is the author of two equally 
instructive and delightful books on Japan — the fruits of his 
long residence in that empire — “Japan To-day” and “Young 
Japan,” in which he tells the story of the renaissance and rise 
to world-power of that marvelous nation, and gives a vivid 
picture of the real life of its heroic and art-loving people. 
Other popular works by the same writer are “Four Princes,” 
which is the story of the growth of the Christian Church, 
centered around four representative characters, and “The 
Holy Grail,” a volume of literary essays and occasional ad- 
dresses. 

The following miscellaneous essayists may here be grouped 
together: Arthur Middleton (1742-1787), author of several 
able political and literary “Essays”; Henry A. Middleton 
(1793-1887), who wrote “Prospect of Disunion,” “The Gov- 
ernment and the Currency,” “The Government of India,” 
“Universal Suffrage,” and “Economical Causes of Slavery 
in the United States”; Mrs. Elizabeth Ann Poyas (1792- 
1877), author of “Carolina in the Olden Time”; “Our 
Forefathers,” and “ Days of Yore” ; Professor A. B. Cooke’s 
“Essays on Work and Life”; and “With the Tourist Tide” 


x Now president of the college in Pasadena, Cal. 


THE ESSAYISTS 


75 


Shirley Carter Hughson’s “The Carolina Pirates”; Edward 
Howland (1832-1890), author of socialistic essays (1907); 
Mrs. H. H. Ravenel’s “Charleston : the Place and the 
People” (1907) ; Professor Edwin L. Green’s “Indians of 
South Carolina” (1904) ; Governor John Lyde Wilson’s “Code 
of Honor” ; Mrs. Mary C. Rion’s ( 1829 ) “The Ladies’ South- 
ern Florist” (1860) ; “Industrial Resources of the South and 
West,” “Statistical View of the United States,” and “The 
Southern States and Their Agricultural Commerce,” by 
James D. B. DeBow (1820-1867), an eminent statistician 
who is still remembered as the founder and editor of DeBow’ s 
Review ; Robert Mills (1781-1855), author of “Statistics of 
South Carolina” and “The American Pharos,” August 
Kohn’s “Cotton Mills in South Carolina” (1908), Col. E. J. 
Watson’s “Resources of South Carolina” (1908), and Pro- 
fessor James Mark Baldwin (1861-), of Columbia, head of the 
department of psychology in Johns Hopkins University, who 
by his “Physchology,” “Elements of Psychology,” “Mental 
Development of the Child and Man,” and “The Story of the 
Mind,” has made a substantial contribution to the study of 
psychology. Colonel James T. Bacon, of Edgefield, is a dis- 
tinguished lecturer and editor, who has imparted to his jour- 
nalistic writings and sketches of travel a literary touch that 
is fresh and charmingly individual. 1 

In Washington Allston (1779-1843), the greatest Amer- 
ican painter, South Carolina possessed also an art critic of 
the first rank. His “Lectures on Art” are composed in a 
correct, fluent and urbane style that suggests the influence 
of Addison. In their intellectual quality and charming 
touches of imagination one is reminded of Sir Joshua Rey- 
nolds’s art lectures. He achieved a higher fame as a painter, 
but he will always hold an honorable place as a minor essay- 


x Died August 10, 1909. 


76 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ist and poet. In the field of philology the State can claim a 
few names of international reputation: Professor Basil L. 
Gildersleeve, of Johns Hopkins University, Professor Ed- 
ward S. Joynes, of South Carolina College, Professor John 
Matthews Manly of the University of Chicago, and Professor 
John Bell Henniman, of the University of the South. James 
Wood Davidson’s “Living Writers of the South” (1869), a 
brilliant but ill-proportioned and impromptu piece of criti- 
cism, was a worthy and interesting pioneer in its field. Mr. 
Ludwig Lewisohn’s “History of Literature in South Caro- 
lina,” which appeared serially in The News and Courier in 
1903, is a most searching and beautifully written work on 
that subject. It is extremely desirable that the author give 
it to the world in a more permanent and accessible form. 
Mr. A. S. Salley, Jr., the scholarly chronologist, has contrib- 
uted to the publications of the South Carolina Historical 
Society, of which he is editor, and to the Historical Commis- 
sion of South Carolina, of which he is the secretary, many 
valuable monographs on the history of the State. Miss Louise 
Manly’s “Southern Literature” (1895) has made a valuable 
addition to the bibliography of the South. Doctor Stanhope 
Sams, of The State, whose literary department he conducts 
with great ability, is temperamentally and professionally one 
of the best equipped critics in South Carolina. Doctor Edward 
S. Joynes (1834-) is a native of Virginia, but has been since 
1882 a resident of South Carolina. His German and French 
grammars have long been the most extensively used of any 
in the country. He has for many years had the distinction 
of being one of the foremost educators and finished writers 
of the State. His published addresses, such as those on “The 
University and the State,” “The Uses of the College Literary 
Society,” “The University of South Carolina,” are models of 
convincing logic and polished rhetoric. His place in litera- 
ture, however, will rest more firmly on the admirable critical 


THE ESSAYISTS 


77 


monographs with which he has introduced his numerous 
editions of foreign classics, such as the essays on George 
Sand, Schiller and Heinrich Tschocke, and on his essay on 
“Gen. Lee as a College President” ( 1908. ) 

Hon. William Ashmead Courtenay (b. Charleston, 1831, 
died in Columbia, 1909), brought out, while mayor of his 
native city (1879-1887), “The Charleston Year-Book,” in 
eight volumes of great historical interest and value. He was 
well-known not only as a distinguished patron of letters but 
as a contributor to the state press of many literary and 
historical papers, which are characterized by accuracy of 
research and by lucidity and purity of style. Among his 
longer writings should be mentioned “The Genesis of South 
Carolina,” an historical sketch of the State from the earliest 
times to the present ; a “Centennial Oration,” delivered in 
1883, and a “Memoir of Carlyle McKinley” (1904). 

Hugh Swinton LegarIs (1789-1843) takes priority among 
the older essayists of South Carolina. In the advantages of 
academic training and foreign travel he w r as the best equipped 
of all the South Carolinians of his day, among whom he was 
distinguished as a great scholar in politics. His tastes wrnuld 
certainly have led him more exclusively into purely literary 
v’ork, but in deference to local conditions he felt it necessary 
to expend a large share of his time and talents in the political 
arena. “It is easy to perceive from his writings,” says Pro- 
fessor Trent, “that his know'ledge of literature and history 
was so broad and deep as fairly to be called astonishing, and 
that few if any other American public men of his day or 
since can be said to have had such a foundation of culture 
on wdrich to build.” In reading the two solid volumes of his 
“Writings” (1848) edited by his sister, Mrs. Mary Legard 
Bullen, one is constantly surprised and delighted at his ver- 
satility and his catholicity of taste. A distinguished coun- 
sellor and authority on the civil law, an accomplished lin- 


78 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


guist, diplomat, and man of affairs, an eloquent orator and 
debater, he was a commanding figure in public life; a pro- 
found critic, a graceful letter-writer, and a brilliant essayist, 
he displayed abilities that if more concentrated might have 
carried him to the highest eminence in literature. His 
speeches are cast in the conventional ante-bellum mould. 
“The Diary of Brussels” and “The Journal of the Rhine” 
present his style in undress and are delightfully chatty and 
spirited, with no lack of close observation and courtly humor. 
The best specimens of his more mature and flexible style are 
the essays on “Demosthenes,” “The Athenian Democracy,” 
and “Roman Legislation,” which were written for The New 
York Review. Here the most profound critical and philo- 
sophical reflections are agreeably relieved by illustrations 
and anecdotes drawn from a wide range of reading and per- 
sonal experience. His graphic pen is able to vitalize remote 
characters and events, which are interfused with the enthu- 
siastic personality of the writer, who felt in closest spiritual 
fellowship with the great of all the ages. The heavy armor 
of classical learning sat lightly upon his powerful mind. 
Legard has met with tardy justice at the hands of our liter- 
ary historians, but it is certain that an honorable place in 
American literature awaits him. 

“Carolina Sports by Land and Water” (1856), by William 
Elliott (1788-1863) is a book that was popular for a genera- 
tion in the Carolinas with the disciples of old Nimrod and 
Isaac Walton. The author’s pen-names, “Venator” and “Pis- 
cator,” were probably borrowed from “The Compleat An- 
gler.” Though the style of his books is deliberately im- 
promptu, it is vitally picturesque and contains such faithful 
and lively descriptions of outdoor pastimes in South Caro- 
lina of the olden days that it should not be allowed to drop 
into oblivion. The famous account of the exciting and dan- 
gerous sport of devil-fishing has never been equalled and is 


THE ESSAYISTS 


79 


entitled to be preserved as a masterpiece of realistic sketch- 
work. 1 

Three women essayists should have honorable mention in 
this connection. Mrs. Louisa Susannah McCord (1810- 
1880), of Columbia, was a well-known contributor to the 
Southern reviews of articles of weight on social and economic 
questions. Her manner is philosophical rather than argu- 
mentative. One is impressed by the deep conviction and 
sincerity of the author, and by an occasional undertone of 
emotion. Her point of view is strongly idealistic. Mrs. 
Caroline Howard Gilman (1794-1888), in addition to the 
poetry and fiction already referred to, wrote a book entitled 
“Recollections of a Southern Matron” (1838), which is still 
well worth reading and compels attention by its quiet, re- 
fined humor and delightful sketches of typical Southern 
characters. The author has with rare insight and sympathy 
drawn the Low-Country with its immemorial fixity of social 
structure and its amusing contrasts between the poor whites, ' 
the slaves and the dominant aristocratic class. Maria Ham- 
ilton Pinckney, daughter of General C. C. Pinckney, 
published (1830) a brochure entitled “The Quintessence of 
Long Speeches, Arranged as a Political Catechism.” 

General James Johnston Pettigrew (1828-1863) belongs 
equally to the sister Carolinas. His talents were so varied 
that it is difficult to conjecture in what sphere he would have 
excelled most. He died young, but not too early to have won 
distinction as a learned attorney, honored traveler, a gallant 
soldier, and cultured gentleman. The literary promise of his 
one rare book, “Spain and the Spaniards,” is such that one 
might wish he had devoted his life to literature. This book 
was hurriedly written and intended only for private circu- 
lation. Though it would be easy to point out faults of 


x See a fuller criticism, with sketch of his life in the “Library of Southern Liter- 
ature” (1909). 


80 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


arrangement, and not a few stylistic shortcomings, the work 
indicates much learning and research, and is a spirited and 
altogether agreeable record of his impressions of a land in 
whose history, scenery, and customs he found much to 
admire. 

It may seem strange to some that Thomas Cooper (1759- 
1840) and Francis Lieber (1800-1872) should be included in 
a volume of South Carolina authors. This State, neverthe- 
less, has a claim to both as writers which no other possesses. 
The former was a native of London, came to Columbia in 
1819 as professor of chemistry in South Carolina College, 
and remained an honored citizen of the commonwealth until 
death. He held advanced views in regard to the importance 
of the study of political economy, and the publication of his 
“Elements of Political Economy” in 1826 marked him as the 
pioneer in the academic teaching of that subject in this coun- 
try. His “Manual of Political Economy” (1833) was de- 
clared by McCullough to be the best of the American works 
on that subject. Cooper’s style was distinguished hv its 
remarkable simplicity and clearness, and was at the same 
time in its temper bold, dogmatic, and sententious. Jeffer- 
son admired him warmly and said that he was “acknowledged 
by every enlightened man who knows him to be the greatest 
man in America in the powers of his mind and in acquired 
information.” Lieber was born in Berlin, and came in 1835 as 
a professor to the South Carolina College, where he remained 
until 1856. It was during his residence at Columbia that he 
wrote the works by which he will be remembered. “It is the 
glory of the South Carolina College,” says Mr. Meriwether, 
“that one of the great publicists of the world should have done 
within her precincts the work on which his fame will rest.” 1 
It was during this golden period of academic leisure that he 
produced the works referred to, his “Manual of Political 


^History of Higher Education in South Carolina > p. 171. 


THE ESSAYISTS 


81 


Ethics” (1838), “Legal and Political Hermaneutics” (1839), 
and his best-known book, “Civil Liberty and Self-Govern- 
ment” ( 1853 ) . Of the extraordinary value of these studies, 
Doctor Daniel C. Gilman says: “They were positive addi- 
tions of the greatest importance to the knowledge previously 
possessed upon these subjects. They embodied in a pro- 
found, original and comprehensive system the principles 
upon which human society and government repose. They 
traced to their true source all the social and governmental 
relations, and expounded their reasons, their history, their 
distinctions, and their philosophic significance and results, 
with a clearness of exhibition, a force of argument, a wealth 
of learning, a power of illustration, and a high moral pur- 
pose, never before seen in the same field.” 1 

South Carolina has had many great editors, whose writ- 
ings, in addition to their vigor, dash, and logical grasp, were 
not lacking in the softer graces of style. For the most part, 
these brilliant and patriotic men merged their personalities 
in their newspapers, and spent their lives in this impersonal 
way fighting the forces of unrighteousness, guiding public 
opinion on all important questions, and laboring unselfishly 
for the material, intellectual, and moral upbuilding of the 
commonwealth. From the large number four eminent and 
representative names have been selected for special notice. 
During a long and honored occupancy of the editorial chair 
of The News and Courier , Captain Francis Warrington 
Dawson (1840-1889) exhibited a superb moral courage and 
a high literary endowment that would doubtless have brought 
him even wider contemporary recognition and lasting fame 
had they been directed into a career of professional author- 
ship. In a series of articles which grew out of the tragic 
meeting of Colonel Cash and Colonel Shannon in 1882 he 
practically destroyed the ancient custom of duelling in this 


Miscellaneous Writings of Francis Lieber, vol. I., p. 24. 


82 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


State by causing it to be made, by legal enactment, a penal 
and political offense. The first of these editorials is given 
as a specimen of his artistic and poignant style. The late 
lamented Narciso Gener Gonzales (1858-1903), first editor 
of The State , will also be enduringly remembered with affec- 
tion and gratitude by the people of South Carolina for his 
splendid, unselfish service in the cause of civic uprightness, 
private virtue, and liberty of speech. The tragic circum- 
stances of his death made a profound impression upon the 
entire nation and called attention to the many good causes 
in which his gifted pen had been enlisted. Among the public 
questions on which he held the most enlightened opinions 
were the race problem, lynching, sectionalism, duelling, child 
labor, the dispensary, education, freedom of the press, fidelity 
of public officials, and Cuban liberty. Of modest bearing, 
but leonine courage, he personified the traditional knightli- 
ness of the Southern gentleman and at the same time exem- 
plified the practical wisdom, efficiency, and resourcefulness 
of the younger men of affairs who have come on the stage 
since the war. He was a self-made man in the best sense of 
the term. Without adequate scholastic training he made 
himself master of a style that for polemic purposes com- 
manded the whole gamut of irony, scorn, and invective, but 
which with a literary theme was modulated with exquisite 
taste and informed with strong creative imagination. No 
reference, however brief to our journalists, should be made 
without including the names of Henry Timrod and James 
A. Hoyt. The first, as editor of The South Carolinian, at a 
fearful historical crisis, sounded a note of hope and courage 
that nerved our people for a social and political cataclasm. 
His editorials are marked by the same rhythmic diction, ar- 
tistic restraint, and felicity of phrase that ennobles his verse. 
His scholarly critical essay, “A Theory of Poetry,” has been 
mentioned above. Colonel Hoyt, the editor of the Greenville 


THE ESSAYISTS 


83 


News, was a brave and courtly gentleman of the old school 
who upheld with trenchant pen and eloquent lips the highest 
ideals of civic virtue at a great moral crisis in the history of 
the State. The press of this State is individually as ably 
manned as that in any other part of the country, and the 
author regrets that lack of space prevents discussion of other 
eminent journalists, some of whom are still the living orna- 
ments of one of the noblest modern professions. 

In closing this sketch of literature in South Carolina, one 
can hardly fail to have a feeling of pride at what has been 
accomplished by our people in this the highest and most 
exacting of all the arts, with such slender resources and 
under such adverse conditions. It is evident from a survey 
of the ground covered in the foregoing pages that the State 
has contributed to the national literature two poets of the 
first rank, Hayne and Timrod, and at least five of the second, 
James M. Legare. Miss Poyas, Grayson, McKinley, and Mr. 
Sass. We have further seen that with John C. Calhoun, 
Robert Y. Hayne, James H. Hammond, George McDuffie, 
William C. Preston, and their contemporaries this common- 
wealth has led all her sister States in political oratory and 
governmental essays, and that with Thornwell, Palmer, 
Elliott and other divines she has excelled in the field of the- 
ology and sacred eloquence. It has been shown, moreover, 
that the works of Cooper and Lieber are the product of her 
soil and give her high rank as a pioneer in political economy. 
She has, furthermore, produced one novelist of national im- 
portance, William Gilmore Simms, shares with Georgia the 
famous humorist, Augustus Baldwin Longstreet, and claims 
two historians of distinction, David Ramsay and Edward 
McCrady, and two prose essayists of first rank, Hugh S. 
Regard and William H. Trescot. Around these stars of the 
first magnitude are clustered a brilliant galaxy of minor 


84 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


lights, — amateur writers for the most part, each of whom 
has, however, left some exquisite bit of prose or verse that 
has found an abiding place in the hearts of the people. It 
is evident that with many limitations our literature has at- 
tempted a development in all directions. Like the larger 
literature of America, of which it is an integral part, its 
growth has been from an imitative provincialism toward a 
greater originality and a wider liberalism. It has been in- 
tensely local, and with a few exceptions amateurish rather 
than professional. There have been periods of experiment, of 
efflorescence, and of sterility. Heretofore we have been dis- 
posed to make too little of our literary assets, but the attitude 
of our people on the subject is rapidly changing. Our lit- 
erary past is, on the whole, encouraging, and the outlook for 
the future is full of hope and the promise of a literary revival 
of far-reaching significance. 


JOSEPH BLYTH ALLSTON 


85 


JOSEPH BLYTH ALLSTON 

Joseph Blyth Allston was born at “Waverley,” the plan- 
tation of his father, General Joseph Allston, near George- 
town, South Carolina, February 8, 1833, and died in Ander- 
son, South Carolina, January 29, 1904. His parents having 
died while he was quite young, he was brought up by his 
uncle, Governor R. F. W. Allston. In 1851 he graduated at 
South Carolina College, and after reading law in the office 
of the great jurist, James Louis Petigru, of Charleston, he 
was admitted to the bar in 1854. He then resided abroad 
for several years. In 1857 he married Miss Mary North, a 
niece of Mr. Petigru, and entered upon the practice of law 
in Charleston. At the outbreak of the war between the sec- 
tions in 1861 he volunteered and served for four years in the 
Twenty-seventh Regiment of South Carolina, attaining the 
rank of captain. About a month before the close of the war 
he was captured and imprisoned in Fort Delaware, where he 
wrote his beautiful and pathetic poem, “Stack Arms!” In 
1865 he removed to Georgetown and subsequently to Balti- 
more for the practice of his profession. Some years ago he 
retired to his farm, historic “Badwell,” the former home of 
Mr. Petigru, in Abbeville County. 

During his student days Captain Allston indicated his 
aptitude for letters by publishing an admirable sketch of 
George McDuffie. His most elaborate prose work is his 
Life of James L. Petigru, published in The Sunday News 
in 1899. He is now best remembered, however, as the author 
of “Stack Arms !” “Charge of Hagood’s Brigade,” “Sumter,” 
and numerous other poems, which have been published in 
various magazines and newspapers during the past fifty 
years. 1 

^he material for the above sketch is taken, by kind permission of the author, 
Professor Yates Snowden, from his article on Allston in The South Carolina His- 
torical and Genealogical Magazine for April, 1904. 


7— W 


86 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


“STACK ARMS!” 

(From Simms’s War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

“Stack Arms!” I’ve gladly heard the cry 
When, weary with the dusty tread 
Of marching troops, as night drew nigh, 

I sank upon my soldier bed, 

And calmly slept ; the starry dome 
Of heaven’s blue arch my canopy, 

And mingled with my dreams of home, 

The thoughts of Peace and Liberty. 

“Stack Arms !” I’ve heard it when the shout 
Exulting, ran along our line, 

Of foes hurled back in bloody rout, 
Captured, dispersed; its tones divine 
Then came to mine enraptured ear, 

Guerdon of duty nobly done, 

And glistened on my cheek the tear 
Of grateful joy for victory won. 

“Stack Arms!” In faltering accents, slow 
And sad, it creeps from tongue to tongue, 
A broken, murmuring wail of woe, 

From manly hearts by anguish wrung. 
Like victims of a midnight dream, 

We move, we know not how nor why, 

For life and hope but phantoms seem, 

And it would be relief — to die! 


CHARGE OF HAGOOD’S BRIGADE . 1 
(From the same.) 

Scarce seven hundred men they stand 
In tattered, rude array, 

A remnant of that gallant band 
Who erstwhile held the sea-girt strand 
Of Morris’ Isle with iron hand 
’Gainst Yankees’ hated sway. 


Written in the summer of 1864, immediately after the charge referred to, which 
was always considered by the brigade as their most desperate encounter. 


JOSEPH BLYTH ALLSTON 


87 


Secessionville their banner claims, 

And Sumter, held ’mid smoke and flames, 
And the dark battle on the streams 
Of Pocotaligo: 

And Walthall’s Junction’s hard-earned fight, 
And Drewry’s Bluff’s embattled height, 
When, at the gray dawn of the light, 

They rushed upon the foe. 

Tattered and torn those banners now, 

But not less proud each lofty brow, 
Untaught as yet to yield: 

With mien unblenched, unfaltering eye, 
Forward, where bombshells shrieking fly, 
Flecking with smoke the azure sky 
On Weldon’s fated field. 

Sweeps from the woods the bold array, 

Not theirs to falter in the fray, 

No men more sternly trained than they 
To meet their deadly doom : 

While, from a hundred throats agape, 

A hundred sulphurous flames escape, 

Round shot, and canister, and grape, 

The thundering cannon’s boom! 

Swift, on their flank, with fearful crash 
Shrapnel and ball commingling clash, 

And bursting shells, with lurid flash, 

Their dazzled sight confound : 

Trembles the earth beneath their feet, 
Along their front a rattling sheet 
Of leaden hail concentric meet, 

And numbers strew the ground. 

On, o’er the dying and the dead, 

O’er mangled limb and gory head, 

With martial look, with martial tread, 
March Hagood’s men to bloody bed, 

Honor their sole reward; 

Himself doth lead their battle line, 

Himself those banners guard. 


88 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

They win the height, those gallant few, 

A fiercer struggle to renew, 

Resolved as gallant men to do 
Or sink in glory’s shroud; 

But scarcely gain its stubborn crest, 

Ere, from the ensign’s murdered breast, 

An impious foe has dared to wrest 
That banner proud. 

Upon him, Hagood, in thy might! 

Flash on thy soul the immortal light 
Of those brave deeds that blazon bright 
Our Southern Cross. 

He dies. Unfurl its folds again, 

Let it wave proudly o’er the plain; 

The dying shall forget their pain, 

Count not their loss. 

Then, rallying to your chieftain’s call, 
Ploughed through by cannon-shot and ball, 
Hemmed in, as by a living wall, 

Cleave back your way. 

Those bannered deeds their souls inspire, 
Borne, amid sheets of forkdd fire, 

By the Two Hundred who retire 
Of that array. 

Ah, Carolina! well the tear 

May dew thy cheek ; thy clasped hands rear 

In passion, o’er their tombless bier, 

Thy fallen chivalry! 

Malony, mirror of the brave, 

And Sellers lie in glorious grave; 

No prouder fate than theirs, who gave 
Their lives for Liberty. 


WASHINGTON ALLSTON 


89 


WASHINGTON ALLSTON 

Washington Allston was born on a plantation on the 
Waccamaw, near Georgetown, South Carolina, November 5, 
1779, and died at Cambridge, Massachusetts, July 9, 1843. 
He was prepared for college at Newport, Rhode Island, where 
he became acquainted with Malbone, and through him ac- 
quired an interest in art. He graduated at Harvard in 1800, 
delivering a poem at commencement. Disposing of his estate 
in South Carolina, he entered on a course of art-studies at 
the Royal Academy in London in 1801, and continued at 
Paris and Rome until 1809, when he returned to America. 
He again went to England in 1811 and remained seven years, 
painting during this period many of his best-known pictures 
and publishing a volume of poems, The Sylphs of the Sea- 
sons, in 1813. He lived at Boston and Cambridge from 
1818 until the end of his life. Among his most noted paint- 
ings are portraits of Benjamin West, Coleridge, and himself, 
Saul and the Witch of Endor, The Angel Uriel in the Sun, 
Spaletro’s Vision of the Bloody Hand, and the famous Bel- 
shazzar’s Feast, which he left unfinished. He was twice 
married, his first wife being a sister of the celebrated Dr. 
William E. Channing, and his second a sister of the poet 
Richard H. Dana — both of distinguished New England fam- 
ilies. 

His published works are: Sylphs of the Seasons, 1813; 
Monaldi: a Tale, 1841; Lectures on Art, and Poems, edited 
by R. H. Dana in 1850. In 1892 Mr. J. B. Flagg edited the 
Life and Letters of Washington Allston. 

SATAN AND HIS THRALL. 

(From Monaldi: A Tale, 1841.) 

After waiting some time for my conductor’s return, and 
finding little worth looking at besides the Lanfranc, I turned 
to leave the chapel by the way I had entered ; but, taking a 


90 


THE WEITEES OF SOUTH CABOLINA 


wrong door, I came into a dark passage, leading, as I sup- 
posed, to an inner court. This being my first visit to a con- 
vent, a natural curiosity tempted me to proceed, when, 
instead of a court, I found myself in a large apartment. 
The light (which descended from above) was so powerful 
that for nearly a minute I could distinguish nothing, and 
I rested on a form attached to the wainscoting. I then put 
up my hand to shade my eyes, when — the fearful vision is 
even now before me — I seemed to be standing before an abyss 
in space, boundless and black. In the midst of this perme- 
able pitch stood a colossal mass of gold, in shape like an 
altar, and girdled about by a huge serpent, gorgeous and 
terrible; his body flecked with diamonds, and his head, an 
enormous carbuncle, floated like a meteor on the air above. 
Such was the Throne. But no words can describe the gigan- 
tic Being that sat thereon — the grace, the majesty, its trans- 
cendent form; and yet I shuddered as I looked, for its 
superhuman countenance seemed, as it were, to radiate false- 
hood ; every feature was in contradiction— the eye, the mouth, 
even to the nostril — whilst the expression of the whole was 
of that unnatural softness which can only be conceived of 
malignant blandishment. It was the appalling beauty of the 
King of Hell. The frightful discord vibrated through my 
whole frame, and I turned for relief to the figure below ; for 
at his feet knelt one who appeared to belong to our race of 
earth. But I had turned from the first, only to witness in 
this second object its withering fascination. It was a man 
apparently in the prime of life, but pale and emaciated, as if 
prematurely wasted by his unholy devotion, yet still devoted 
— with outstretched hands, and eyes upraised to their idol, 
fixed with a vehemence that seemed almost to start them 
from their sockets. The agony of his eye, contrasting with 
the prostrate, reckless worship of his attitude, but too well 
told his tale: I beheld the mortal conflict between the con- 
science and the will — the visible struggle of a soul in the 
toils of sin. I could look no longer. 

As I turned, the prior was standing before me. “Yes,” 
said he, as if replying to my thoughts, “it is indeed terrific. 
Had you beheld it unmoved, you had been the first that ever 
did so. 


WASHINGTON ALLSTON 


91 


“There is a tremendous reality in the picture that comes 
home to every man’s imagination : even the dullest feel it, 
as if it had the power of calling up that faculty in minds 
never before conscious of it.” 


THE ART OF MICHAEL ANGELO. 

(From Lectures on Art and Poems, 1850.) 

There is no school from which something may not be 
learned. But chiefly to the Italian should the student be 
directed, who would enlarge his views on the present sub- 
ject, and especially to the works of Raphael and Michael 
Angelo ; in whose highest efforts we have, so to speak, certain 
revelations of Nature which could only have been made by 
her privileged seers. And we refer to them more particu- 
larly, as to the two great sovereigns of the two distinct em- 
pires of Truth, — the Actual and the Imaginative; in which 
their claims are acknowledged by that within us, of which 
we know nothing but that it must respond to all things true. 
We refer to them, also, as important examples in their mode 
of study; in which it is evident that, whatever the source of 
instruction, it was never considered as a law of servitude, 
but rather as the means of giving visible shape to their own 
conceptions. 

From the celebrated antique fragment, called the Torso, 
Michael Angelo is said to have constructed his forms. If 
this be true, — and we have no reason to doubt it, — it could 
nevertheless have been to him little more than a hint. But 
that is enough to a man of genius, who stands in need, no 
less than others, of a point to start from. There was some- 
thing in this fragment which he seems to have felt, as if of 
a kindred nature to the unembodied creatures in his own 
mind; and he pondered over it until he mastered the spell 
-of its author. He then turned to his own, to the germs of 
life that still awaited birth, to knit their joints, to attach 
the tendons, to mould the muscles, — finally, to sway the limbs 
by a mighty will. Then emerged into being that gigantic 
race of the Sistina, — giants in mind no less than in body, 
that appear to have descended as from another planet. His 


92 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Prophets and Sybils seem to carry in their persons the com- 
manding evidence of their mission. They neither look nor 
move like beings to be affected by the ordinary concerns of 
life; but as if they could only be moved by the vast of 
human events, the fall of empires, the extinction of nations ; 
as if the awful secrets of the future had overwhelmed in 
them all present sympathies. As we have stood before these 
lofty apparitions of the painter’s mind, it has seemed to us 
impossible that the most vulgar spectator could have re- 
mained there irreverent. 


THE ANGEL AND THE NIGHTINGALE. 

(Part IV.) 

(From the same.) 

’Twas now the hour, — that boding hour of life, 

When half-awakened forms of care or strife 
Mix with the broken dream, — that shadowy hour, 
That like a spectre stands ’twixt night and day, 

For good or ill, and with his finger gray 
Points to the daily doom no mortal power, 

For virtue or for vice, can either change or stay. 

And never came that hour more winning mild 
To mar the fancies of a sleeping child, 

Than now it came to our sweet Philomel. 

She looked abroad upon the hueless wood, 

Then on the sandy plain, where lately stood 
That breathing multitude no tongue could tell; 

All, all was still and blank, yet all to her was good. 

For e’en the stillness seemed as if a part 
Of that pure peace that wrapt her gentle heart. 

Then how like thoughts, or rather like a cloud 
Of formless feeling growing into thought, 

The dusky mass, as now she sees it wrought 
Slow into shapes, that all around her crowd, 

As each their hue of life from day’s first herald caught, — 


WASHINGTON ALLSTON 


93 


The purple rack, that from the eastern sky 
Tell to the waking earth that day is nigh. 

So mused she undepressed in this lone scene. 

But now the sun is up; and soon a train, 

Led by the wily Thrush, athwart the plain 
Is seen to bend. More gorgeous sight, I ween, 

Ne’er made the ethereal bow when bent through morning 
rain ! 

The tenants of the wood what this might mean 
Quick gathered round to learn; for they had seen 
The stranger band afar, like some gray mist, 

Loosed from a mountain peak, wreathing its way 
Slow up the west; and there anon to play 
As with the sun; now, dark, his light resist, 

And now, in flickering flakes, fling far each shivered ray. 

These were the creatures of that regal clime 
Where reigns the imperial Sun ; whose soil sublime 
Teems through its glowing depths e’en with his light, 
There ripening into gems; the while he dyes, 

With his own orient hues, the earth and skies, 

But most the feathered race, — that so their flight 
Might bring his glory back in radiant sacrifice. 

“Behold my promised friends; far travelers they, — 
E’en from the new-found world, — who fain would pay 
Their passing homage to a Bird so famed.” 

So spake the insidious Thrush: and then around 
Her snaky eyes she cast, as one who found 
Full sure revenge. “Nay, wherefore shrink, ashamed 
Thy meaner form to show? for what is form to sound?’’ 

The taunting words came dead upon the ear 
Of her they would have smote; the cruel sneer 
Touched not a heart so flooded o’er with love, — 

That pure, supernal love which now gushed forth: — 
“O blessed creatures! whence your glorious birth? 
From what bright region of the world above? 

Sure never things so fair first breathed upon the Earth !” 


94 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


So deep, yet passionless, that wondrous love 
Which Beauty wakes! Pure Instinct from above! 
That, ’mid the selfish needs, and pains, and fears, 
That waste the heart, still fresh dost ever live! 

O, who can doubt the promise thou dost give 
Of higher destiny, — when toiling years 
And pain and sin shall flee, and only love survive? 

Scarce had she spoke, when o’er the wondering crowd, 
Grazing the dark tree-tops, there stood a cloud 
Of dazzling white; while ’gainst the deep blue sky 
Aloft it rose, as ’t were some feudal pile, 

Where tourneys, held for gentle ladies’ smile, 

Brought from each polished land her chivalry, 

From proud Granada’s realm to Britain’s gallant isle. 

But how unlike to them the radiant throng 

That from these cloudy towers poured down their song, 

Breathing of Heaven in each hallowed word! 

“All hail!” they sang, — “all hail, sweet Nightingale! 
Who enviest not, who hatest not, all hail! 

Who sufferest all, yet lovest all, sweet Bird! 

Thy glory here begun shall never, never fail!” 

But, lo! a sudden darkness, deep as night, 

Fell on the thick, hot air. With strange affright 
The wingdd crowd against each other dashed : 

All but our gentle Bird; she fearless stood, 

And saw the towery cloud, now changed to blood, 

Boil as in wrath; and now with fire it flashed, 

And forth the thunder rolled, and shook the appalldd wood. 

Then straight again the quiet sylvan scene 
Lay bright and basking in the morning sheen; — 

So like a dream had this wild vision fled! 

Nor left it aught its fearful truth to note, 

Save on the sandy plain one small, dark spot, 

Where lay the envious Thrush, — black, stiff, and dead. 
Alas, too well deserved her miserable lot! 


WASHINGTON ALLSTON 


95 


A cold, brief look was all the useless dead 
Had from her parting friends, who forthwith sped 
Each to his tropic home. But what befell 
Our gentle Bird? Some day her glorious strain 
Within that dreadful cloud was heard again, 
Deepening the. thunder; then afar to swell 
’Mid soft, symphonious sounds, like murmurs from the main. 

Howe’er it was, one faith had all possessed, — 

Her spirit then was numbered with the blest. 

And still there are who hold a faith as strong, 
Though years have passed, far, far upon the drift 
Of ebbless time, that some have now the gift 
On a still, starlight night to hear her song, — 

As ’t were their blameless hearts still nearer heaven to lift. 


TO MICHAEL ANGELO. 

(From the same.) 

’Tis not to honor thee by verse of mine, 

I bear a record of thy wondrous power: 

Thou stand’st alone, and needest not to shine 
With borrowed lustre; for the light is thine 
Which no man giveth; and, though comets lower 
Portentous round thy sphere, thou still art bright; 
Though many a satellite about thee fall, 

Leaving their stations merged in trackless night, 
Yet take not they from that supernal light 
Which lives within thee, sole, and free to all. 


96 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


JOSEPH BROWNLEE BROWN 

Joseph Brownlee Brown was born at Charleston, South 
Carolina, October 4, 1824, and died at Brooklyn, New York, 
October 21, 1888. Educated at Dartmouth College, where 
he graduated in 1845, he studied law, but soon devoted him- 
self to teaching, and became a contributor to literary peri- 
odicals. He spent several years in Europe, acquired a thor- 
ough knowledge of modern languages, art and philosophy, 
wrote in his hours of leisure and translated Homer’s “Iliad” 
into hexameter verse. It has been said of the following poem 
that it “is alone worth a life otherwise obscure.” 

“THALATTA ! THALATTA V n 

I stand upon the summit of my life, 

Behind, the camp, the court, the field, the grove, 

The battle, and the burden; vast, afar 
Beyond these weary ways, behold, the Sea! 

The sea, o’erswept by clouds, and winds, and wings ; 

By thoughts and wishes manifold; whose breath 
Is freshness, and whose mighty pulse is peace. 

Palter no question of the horizon dim — 

Cut loose the bark! Such voyage itself is rest; 
Majestic motion, unimpeded scope, 

A widening heaven, a current without care, 

Eternity! Deliverance, promise, course, 

Time-tired souls salute thee from the shore. 


^‘Thalatta ! Thalatta !” meaning “The Sea ! The Sea !’’ an exclamation which has 
become historical through the story in Xenophon’s Anabasis of the retreat of the 
ten thousand Greeks from Persia to the Black Sea, was uttered by the survivors 
when they first again espied the sea, in February, 400 B. C. 


JOHN DICKSON BKUNS 


97 


JOHN DICKSON BRUNS 

John Dickson Bruns was born at Charleston in 1836. 
He graduated with the first honor at the College of Charles- 
ton in 1854, attended medical lectures at Philadelphia and 
Charleston, and received the degree of M. D. at the Medical 
College of the latter in 1857. He was editor of the Charles- 
ton Medical Journal from 1857 till 1861, when he became the 
surgeon of a Confederate hospital. From 1865 till 1866 he 
held a chair of medicine in his alma mater, in the meantime 
visiting Europe and studying at London. In the fall of 1866 
he was chosen professor of physiology and pathology in the 
New Orleans School of Medicine. 

Dr. Bruns was the author of “Our Christmas Hymn,” “0 
Temporal 0 Mores!” “Charleston, 1836,” “The Foe at the 
Gates,” “Wrecked,” “Dead,” “Schiller,” “Legend of Santa 
Claus,” and other poems. 

OUR CHRISTMAS HYMN. 

(From Simms’s War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

“Good-will and peace ! peace and good-will !” 

The burden of the Advent song, 

What time the love-charmed waves grew still 
To harken to the shining throng; 

The wondering shepherds heard the strain 

Who watched by night the slumbering fleece, 

The deep skies echoed the refrain, 

“Peace and good-will, good-will and peace!” 

And wise men hailed the promised sign, 

And brought their birth-gifts from the East, 

Dear to that Mother as the wine 

That hallowed Cana’s bridal feast; 

But what to these are myrrh or gold, 

And what Arabia’s costliest gem, 

Whose eyes the Child divine behold, 

The blessed Babe of Bethlehem. 


98 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“Peace and good-will, good-will and peace!” 
They sing, the bright ones overhead; 

And scarce the jubilant anthems cease 
Ere Judah wails her first-born dead; 

And Rama’s wild, despairing cry 

Fills with great dread the shuddering coast, 
And Rachel hath but one reply, 

“Bring back, bring back my loved and lost.” 


So, down two thousand years of doom 
That cry is borne on wailing winds, 

But never star breaks through the gloom, 

No cradled peace the watcher finds; 

And still the Herodian steel is driven, 

And breaking hearts make ceaseless moan, 
And still the mute appeal to heaven 

Man answers back with groan for groan. 


How shall we keep our Christmas-tide? 

With that dread past, its wounds agape, 
Forever walking by our side, 

A fearful shade, an awful shape; 

Can any promise of the spring 

Make green the faded autumn leaf? 

Or who shall say that time will bring 

Fair fruit to him who sows but grief? 


Wild bells ! that shake the midnight air 

With those dear tones that custom loves, 
You wake no sounds of laughter here, 

Nor mirth in all our silent groves; 

On one broad waste, by hill or flood, 

Of ravaged lands your music falls, 

And where the happy homestead stood 
The stars look down on roofless halls. 


JOHN DICKSON BRUNS 


99 


At every board a vacant chair 

Fills with quick tears some tender eye, 
And at our maddest sports appear 

Those well-loved forms that will not die. 
We lift the glass, our hand is stayed — 

We jest, a spectre rises up — 

And weeping, though no word is said, 

We kiss and pass the silent cup, 


And pledge the gallant friend who keeps 
His Christmas-eve on Malvern’s height, 
And him, our fair-haired boy, who sleeps 
Beneath Virginian snows tonight; 
While, by the fire, she, musing, broods 
On all that was and might have been, 

If Shiloh’s dank and oozing woods 

Had never drunk that crimson stain. 


O happy Yules of buried years! 

Could ye but come in wonted guise, 

Sweet as love’s earliest kiss appears, 

When looking back through wistful eyes, 
Would seem those chimes whose voices tell 
His birth-night with melodious burst, 

Who, sitting by Samaria’s well, 

Quenched the lorn widow’s life-long thirst. 


Ah! yet I trust that all who weep, 

Somewhere, at last, will surely find 
His rest, if through dark ways they keep 

The child-like faith, the prayerful mind: 
And some far Christmas morn shall bring 
From human ills a sweet release 
To loving hearts, while angels sing 

“Peace and good-will, good-will and peace!” 


100 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


o, tempora! o, mores! 

(From the same.) 

“Great Pan is dead !” so cried an airy tongue 
To one, who, drifting down Calabria’s shore, 
Heard the last knell, in starry midnight rung, 

Of the old Oracles, dumb for evermore. 

A low wail ran along the shuddering deep, 

And as, far off, its flaming accents died, 

The awe-struck sailors, startled from their sleep, 
Gazed, called aloud : no answering voice replied ; 

Nor ever will — the angry gods have fled, 

Closed are the temples, mute are all the shrines, 
The fires are quenched, Dodona’s growth is dead, 
The Sybil’s leaves are scattered to the winds. 

No mystic sentence will they bear again, 

Which, sagely spelled, might ward a nation’s doom 
But we have left us still some god-like men, 

And some great voices pleading from the tomb. 

If we would heed them, they might save us yet, 

Call up some gleams of manhood in our breasts, 
Truth, valor, justice, teach us to forget 
In a grand cause our selfish interests. 

But we have fallen on evil times indeed, 

When public faith is but the common shame, 
And private morals held an idiot’s creed, 

And old-world honesty an empty name. 

And lust, and greed, and gain are all our arts! 

The simple lessons which our fathers taught 
Are scorned and jeered at; in our sordid marts 
We sell the faith for which they toiled and fought. 

Each jostling each in the mad strife for gold, 

The weaker trampled by the unrecking throng, 
Friends, honor, country lost, betrayed, or sold, 

And lying blasphemies on every tongue. 


JOHN DICKSON BRUNS 


101 


Cant for religion, sounding words for truth, 

Fraud leads to fortune, gelt for guilt atones, 

No care for hoary age or tender youth, 

For widows’ tears or helpless orphans’ groans. 

The people rage, and work their own wild will, 

They stone the prophets, drag their highest down, 

And as they smite, with savage folly still 

Smile at their work, those dead eyes wear no frown. 

The sage of “Drainfield ” 1 tills a barren soil, 

And reaps no harvest where he sowed the seed, 

He has but exile for long years of toil ; 

Nor voice in council, though his children bleed. 

And never more shall “Redcliff’s ” 2 oaks rejoice, 

Now bowed with grief above their master’s bier; 

Faction and party stilled that mighty voice, 

Which yet could teach us wisdom, could we hear. 

And “Woodland’s ” 3 harp is mute : the gray, old man 
Broods by his lonely hearth and weaves no song; 

Or, if he sing, the note is sad and wan, 

Like the pale face of one who’s suffered long. 

So all earth’s teachers have been overborne 
By the coarse crowd, and fainting droop or die; 

They bear the cross, their bleeding brows the thorn, 
And ever hear the clamor — “Crucify !” 

Oh, for a man with god-like heart and brain! 

A god in stature, with a god’s great will, 

And fitted to the time, that not in vain 

Be all the blood we’ve spilt and yet must spill. 

Oh, brothers! friends! shake off the Circean spell! 
Rouse to the dangers of impending fate! 

Grasp your keen swords, and all may yet be well — 
More gain, more pelf, and it will be, too late! 

^he country-seat of R. Barnwell Rhett. 

2 The homestead of Judge James H. Hammond. 

’H’he homestead of W. Gilmore Simms (destroyed by Sherman’s army.) 


8— W 


102 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE FOE AT THE OATES — CHARLESTON. 

(From Simms’s War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

Ring round her! children of her glorious skies, 

Whom she hath nursed to stature proud and great ; 

Catch one last glance from her imploring eyes, 

Then close your ranks and face the threatening fate. 

Ring round her! with a wall of horrent steel 
Confront the foe, nor mercy ask nor give; 

And in her hour of anguish let her feel 

That ye can die whom she has taught to live. 

Ring round her! swear, by every lifted blade, 

To shield from wrong the mother who gave you birth ; 

That never villain hand on her be laid, 

Nor base foot desecrate her hallowed hearth. 

See how she thrills all o’er with noble shame, 

As through deep sobs she draws the laboring breath, 

Her generous brow and bosom all aflame 

At the bare thought of insult, worse than death. 

And stained and rent her snowy garments are; 

The big drops gather on her pallid face, 

Gashed with great wounds by cowards who strove to mar 
The beauteous form that spurned their foul embrace. 

And still she pleads, oh ! how she pleads, with prayers 
And bitter tears, to every loving child 

To stand between her and the doom she fears, 

To keep her fame untarnished, undefiled! 

Curst be the dastard who shall halt or doubt! 

And doubly damned who casts one look behind! 

Ye who are men ! with unsheathed sword and shout, 

Up with her banner! give it to the wind. 

Peal your wild slogan, echoing far and wide, 

Till every ringing avenue repeat 

The gathering cry, and Ashley’s angry tide 
Calls to the sea-waves beating round her feet. 


JOHN DICKSON BRUNS 


103 


Sons, to the rescue! spurred and belted, come! 
Kneeling, with clasped hands, she invokes you now 

By the sweet memories of your childhood’s home, 
By every manly hope and filial vow, 

To save her proud soul from that loathed thrall 
Which yet her spirit cannot brook to name; 

Or, if her fate be near, and she must fall, 

Spare her — she sues — the agony and the shame. 

From all her fanes let solemn bells be tolled, 

Heap with kind hands her costly funeral pyre, 

And thus, with paean sung and anthem rolled, 

Give her, unspotted, to the God of Fire. 

Gather around her sacred ashes then, 

Sprinkle the cherished dust with crimson rain, 

Die! as becomes a race of free-born men, 

Who will not crouch to wear the bondman’s chain. 

So, dying, ye shall win a high renown, 

If not in life, at least by death, set free — 

And send her fame, through endless ages down, 
The last grand holocaust of liberty. 


104 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


HOWARD HAYNE CALDWELL 

Howard Hayne Caldwell was born in Newberry in 1831, 
and died in 1858. His poetical works are comprised in two 
small volumes entitled Oliatta, and Other Poems, 1855, and 
Poems, 1858. The latter contains his best work, including 
“Saint Agnes,” “A Dream of Maries,” “Sonnet on the Death 
of J. B. Anderson,” “Oenone,” “The Wind Harp,” “La Belle 
Inconnue,” “Ode on the Battle of King’s Mountain,” “The 
Night When Last We Met,” “The Estrangement,” etc. 


A DREAM OF MARIES. 

(From Poems, 1858.) 

“Why is the name of Mary sweet?” — Davidson. 

The winter winds had wailed themselves to sleep, 

The air was balmy as an April day, 

And while the lengthened shadows ’gan to creep 
I sought the grove where hangs the long moss gray; 
Awhile from toils and cares my mind was free, 

And dull abstractions of remoter times; 

I sought the grove with earnestness and glee 
To list the pine-crests with their solemn chimes, 

Their strange mild music, so like weirdly Runic rhymes. 

Flushed by my speed across the open plain, 

I sat me down to hear the pine-groves sing: 

Anon, their song was answered by the strain 
Of lonely dove, or twittering birds on wing; 

Then, as when voices hush and grandly ring, 

The organ’s tones far thro’ each dim-lit aisle, 

And Feeling’s myriad forms do seem to fling 
On that grand symphony each charm to thrill, 

Now hushed the birds their songs to list those tones awhile! 


HOWARD HAYNE CALDWELL 


105 


Lulled by the chorus of the gladdened birds, 

Soothed by the accord of many a whispering pine, 

A quiet feeling (all unknown to words, 

But which, the heart once knowing, will enshrine), 

A slumberous spell did ’round my heart entwine, 

And dreamy, now, upon the moss I sank, — 

And while at ease this weary form of mine 

Lay ’mid the autumn-flowers upon the bank, 

This vision o’er me stole while eve the first dew drank : 

Methought that o’er the wood and open field 
An angel passed, and where his light steps fell 
A garden grew, and to the eye revealed 

All flowers and plants and trees on earth that dwell ; 
Lotus, the angeline, and asphodel, 

Lilies, and tulips, and the queenly rose, 

Crocus and iris, myrrh and cassia’s smell, 

And fragrant cloves ’neath poppies in repose, 

And white magnolia flowers, as pure as virgin-snows. 

And all these bowers of richest shade and hue, 

With birds’ low songs, were musical and sweet; 

And yellow bees, and insects gold and blue, 

And orioles, and doves, and mock-birds meet, 

And nightingales, and kingly eagles fleet, 

Gathered around the fountain, where the swan 
Did float majestic on the silvery sheet, 

While birds-of-paradise looked proudly on 
The host, of myriad hues, with songs of varied tone. 

Along the walks I passed, and there beheld 
Such statues as mine eyes had never seen; 
Rock-bound Prometheus with his heart unquelled, 

Lone Ariadne, and that Southern Queen 
Half-mad with tropic love, Marc Antony’s bane, 

And Jove-born Helen gazing on the fight, 

And Dido, calling back her lord again, 

And Theseus, Gorgon-armed and war-bedight, 

And Circe with her herbs, all plucked at dead of night. 


106 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Now, as I passed, I found a floral niche 
Wherein the Virgin-mother and her child, 
Bright-aureoled and robed in garments rich, 

From the cold marble looked and almost smiled; 
The blest maid-mother, pensive, meek, and mild, 
Meseemed to leave the niche ; and ’round the place 
The Magi bowed all reverend, holy-willed, 

While from the Infant’s soft and beauteous face 
There beamed a God like smile of mercy, love, and grace. 


Now, many Maries crowded on my sight; 

That wretched mother, in the famished town 
Who made of her own babe a feast by night; 

And she who wore the lilies and the crown, 
Unhappy captive of a sad renown, 

The lovely Stuart, weeping followed near — 
And that Medicis with an angry frown 

Who swayed a kingdom once, then fled in fear, 
And wore her life away in penury and care! 


Then, a strange murmuring on every side 
Disturbed the stately silence of the scene, 

But soon the voices reverently died, 

While spake to me the great Hungarian queen, 
Walking before me with majestic mien; 

“Tread thou in virtue’s paths and there alone, 

Virtue alone is happiness”; serene, ' 

One said, “Amen!” ’twas Mary Washington, 

And weeping Marie Stuart answered with a moan. 

The sad Medicis warned of pride and hate, 

And mourned her death-bed curse on Richelieu’s head ; 
Marie Louise bewailed her luckless fate, 

And told the curses of the life she led; 

Mary of Spain, in saddest accents said: 

“Beware the lures that fell ambition weaves! 

Once, I was known and feared, but ’mong the dead 
My earthly fame no pang of woe relieves, 

And, ’mong the living, none my former fame believes.” 


HOWARD HAYNE CALDWELL 


107 


The noble sister of the great Fifth Charles 
Then lauded justice, courage, faith, and truth; 

And Brabant Mary, decked with gold and pearls, 
Bewailed the sins and follies of her youth; 

And then that Mary, fairest far in sooth, 

Spoke of her vanity — “A king once came 
With gorgeous train to see me — by my troth 
It was most pleasant to have beauty’s fame! 

But beauty fades, and then one’s life is tears and shame.” 

Then spake that Mary who, at Jesus’ feet, 

Learned better wisdom than the sages taught; 

“In thee, O Lord ! alone, all pleasures meet, 

By thee alone, life to the dead is brought! 

Oh dreamer! be thy only future thought 
A prayer for aid to serve this Saviour well : 

I trusted Him, and now when earth is naught 
For aye to me, in rapturous bliss I dwell, 

And half my joys or woe no tongue may ever tell!” 

Then from each Mary some deep teaching wise, 

I heard and pondered on : till, one by one, 

The mighty throng did fade before my eyes, 

And soon the fair strange company was gone: 

The fountains murmured in a low, sweet tone, 

The birds’ night-songs were most surpassing sweet; 
The flowers’ rich perfume, on the breezes blown, 
Breathed on my brow; then, passing from me fleet, 
New gales of balm did come as others would retreat. 

And now, the flowers began to cease to send 

Their fragrant perfume ’round my sleeping head; 
At once, the fountain’s murmur seemed to end, 

The birds were hushed — and lo! the gardens fled! 

I roused me then, the last faint streaks of red 
Were on the clouds — the crescent moon was high — 

I rose and, wondering, left my heather-bed 
And pondered on that dream; — until I die 
It still must live, deep graven in my memory. 


108 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


SONNET 

On the death of J. B. Anderson, who, having directed his 
servant to leave him alone at his prayers, was discovered, 
a short time afterwards, dead upon his knees. 

A warrior, dying with his armor on, 

A prophet, in his singing robes at death, 

A lover, yielding in fond vows, his breath, 

A king, deceasing on his regal throne, 

A priest, expiring at the altar-stone: 

All these are types of thee, belovdd friend! 

Blest was thy life, and more than blest thy end, 

For in that end life’s highest glory shone. 

Green be the turf above thy guileless breast, 

Calm be thy sleep, and be thy memory blest! 

Thy ruling passion, strong in death, we see 
An angel-instinct from some holier sphere 
Bend over thy head to place life’s crown on thee, 

That life, like sweet perfume, breathed out in prayer ! 


NIGHT ON THE DISMAL SWAMP. 

(From Oliatta, 1855.) 

Night o’er the Dismal Swamp has thrown 
Her hushing spell on all around; 
Silence sits sovereign now alone, 

Nor e’en the night-bird’s songs resound. 
All lies in lonely stillness now, 

Save the low rippling of the wave, 
Which, while it crept the woodbine thro’, 
A dull, low murmur ever gave; 

And where yon vines are closely bound, 
No light by night or day may come, 
There spreads afar a cave profound, 
Where gurgle waters in the gloom. 
Darkness sleeps ever in that cave, 

Save when the fiery mists arise, 

And faintly light the sluggish wave 
With tints like evening’s fading skies! 
No sound of life is echoed there, 

Till comes the serpent from beneath, 

A moment hissing on the air, 

Then lulls in Lethean sleep like death. 


HOWARD HAYNE CALDWELL 


109 


Above, the wild mimosas bloom, 

And send their perfumes on the breeze; 

And cypress, fitter for the gloom, 

Bends o’er the weeping-willow trees. 

Anxiously now upon the shore 
Caspar and Ulric seek in vain 
That youth, whom they shall see no more, 

Who never shall return again ! 

Hither they’d hastened from the cot, 

Knowing he’d seek the lonely lake; 

And while they stood, they heard a shout 
Resounding far across the brake. 

Caspar but too well knew the cry 
“It is Budolpho ! in that place 
Seeking his loved one’s words t’ obey : 

His steps he never may retrace !” 

Hark! what sweet music swelleth there? 

An angel-voice now sings alone, 

While all the echoes, thro’ the air 

Far o’er the wave the sound have borne. 

See! thro’ the shadows of yon vines 
A light of gentle radiance now 
Full o’er the matted jungle shines, 

And on the yellow waves below. 

List! as the barque doth swiftly come: 

The spirit-music softly swell : 

The night-birds hush the copse-wood from, 

And silent Nature aids the spell : 

“Will you come to the lake of the Dismal Swamp, 
And its shades of eternal gloom? 

There, ’neath the groves of dark vines damp, 
The flowers immortal bloom. 

There, the matin song of the earliest bird 
Shall bid us glide o’er the wave, 

To rest, where never a footstep stirred, 

In the Night of the rayless cave! 


110 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“Will you come to the spirit-call I send, 

And drink of the vine I give? 

Then, then indeed may our beings blend, 

When the earth-part shall cease to live! 

Then soul with soul, in our phantom-barque, 
We’ll glide o’er the waters blue, 

When the stars shall call with awakening spark 
The maiden and lover so true!” 

A wild and maniac cry then swelled 
Far o’er the listening wave; 

The phantom-barque Rudolpho held 
On his way to the rayless cave. 

Afar they sped o’er the waters wide, 

And her spirit-songs were heard, 

While he followed the course of his angel-bride 
Till the mouth of the cave they neared. 

The light fades on the vision there, 

Nor lover or boat is seen; 

Silence again dwells on the air, 

And the waters are still again! 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


111 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 

John Caldwell Calhoun was born in Abbeville District, 
South Carolina, March 18, 1782, and died at Washington, 
March 31, 1850. He was of Scotch-Irish Presbyterian de- 
scent in the line of both parents. He received his prepara- 
tory training from his brother-in-law, Dr. Moses Waddel, 
graduated at Yale in 1804, and studied law at Litchfield, 
Connecticut. In 1808 he became a member of the Legisla- 
ture of South Carolina, and three years later was sent to 
Congress. During his six years’ service in the House he 
took an active part in the debates on the tariff and other 
legislation, and was a strong advocate of war in 1812. In 1817 
Monroe appointed him Secretary of War, a position which 
he filled with distinguished ability for seven years. From 
1825 to 1832 he was Vice-President of the United States, and 
became the leader of the States’ Rights school and the expo- 
nent of the strict construction of the Constitution. He was 
a champion of Nullification in 1832, and was the author of 
the South Carolina “Exposition.” He resigned his high 
office in December, 1832, to become a Senator, and for ten 
years formed with Clay and Webster the great triumvirate 
in the leadership of the Senate. He now receded somewhat 
from his former position in 1808-1817 and advocated free 
trade and strict economy in the administration of the gov- 
ernment. During this period he delivered some of his most 
famous speeches with an earnestness, logical force, and pro- 
found grasp of political theory that commanded the respect 
of his opponents and caused him to be regarded as little less 
than an oracle by his followers. In 1843 he resigned from 
the Senate, and the next year became Secretary of State in 
Tyler’s cabinet. In this position he hastened the annexation 
of Texas. He returned to the Senate in 1845, where he 
remained till his death. Among other policies during his 
last years he tried to avert the war with Mexico, urged a 


112 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


peaceful solution of the Oregon question, defended slavery 
as neither morally nor politically wrong, advocated States’ 
Rights, and labored to preserve the Union. In private life 
he was highly esteemed for his purity of character, and for 
his honesty, kindness, and sociability. 

Calhoun’s works were edited in six volumes by Richard 
R. Cralltj in 1853-1854. His Letters were edited by Pro- 
fessor J. F. Jameson in 1900. Among his most important 
political treatises and speeches are : A Disquisition on Gov- 
ernment, A Discourse on the Constitution and Government 
of the United States, A Letter to Governor Hamilton on the 
Subject of State Interposition, Speech on the Tariff in the 
House, December 19, 1811, Speech on the Admission of Mich- 
igan to the Union, January 5, 1837, Speech on the Reception 
of the Abolition Petitions, February, 1837, and Speech on 
the Compromise of 1850. Biographies of Calhoun have been 
written by J. S. Jenkins, Professor H. von Holst, and Gus- 
tavus M. Pinckney, and there is a Private Life of Calhoun 
by Mary Bates (1852). 


THE NATURE OF LIBERTY. 

(From A Disquisition on Government.) 

The principle, in all communities, according to these nu- 
merous and various causes, assigns to power and liberty their 
proper spheres. To allow to liberty, in any case, a sphere 
of action more extended than this assigns, would lead to 
anarchy; and this, probably, in the end, to a contraction 
instead of an enlargement of its sphere. Liberty, then, when 
forced on a people unfit for it, w r ould, instead of a blessing, 
be a curse ; as it would, in its reaction, lead directly to anar- 
chy, — the greatest of all curses. No people, indeed, can long 
enjoy more liberty than that to which their situation and 
advanced intelligence and morals fairly entitle them. If 
more than this be allowed, they must soon fall into confusion 
and disorder, — to be followed, if not by anarchy and despot- 
ism, by a change to a form of government more simple and 
absolute; and, therefore, better suited to their condition. 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


113 


And hence, although it may be true that a people may not 
have as much liberty as they are fairly entitled to, and are 
capable of enjoying, — yet the reverse is unquestionably true, 
— that no people can long possess more than they are fairly 
entitled to. 

Liberty, indeed, though among the greatest of blessings, 
is not so great as that of protection; inasmuch as the end 
of the former is the progress and improvement of the race, — 
while that of the latter is its preservation and perpetuation. 
And hence, w r hen the two come into conflict, liberty must, 
and ever ought, to yield to protection; as the existence of 
the race is of greater moment than its improvement. 

It follows, from what has been stated, that it is a great 
and dangerous error to suppose that all people are equally 
entitled to liberty. It is a reward to be earned, not a bless- 
ing to be gratuitously lavished on all alike; — a reward re- 
served for the intelligent, the patriotic, the virtuous and the 
deserving; — and not a boon to be bestowed on a people too 
ignorant, degraded and vicious to be capable either of appre- 
ciating or of enjoying it. Nor is it any disparagement to 
liberty that such is and ought to be the case. On the con- 
trary, its greatest praise, — its proudest distinction is, that 
an all-wise Providence has reserved it, as the noblest and 
highest reward for the development of our faculties, moral 
and intellectual. A reward more appropriate than liberty 
could not be conferred on the deserving; — nor a punishment 
inflicted on the undeserving more just, than to be subject to 
lawless and despotic rule. This dispensation seems to be 
the result of some fixed law ; — and every effort to disturb or 
defeat it, by attempting to elevate a people in the scale of 
liberty, above the point to which they are entitled to rise, 
must ever prove abortive, and end in disappointment. The 
progress of a people rising from a lower to a higher point in 
the scale of liberty, is necessarily slow ; — and by attempting 
to precipitate, we either retard, or permanently defeat it. 

There is another error, not less great and dangerous, 
usually associated with the one which has just been con- 
sidered. I refer to the opinion, that liberty and equality are 
so intimately united, that liberty cannot be perfect without 
perfect equality. 


114 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


That they are united to a certain extent, — and that equal- 
ity of citizens, in the eyes of the law, is essential to liberty 
in a popular government, is conceded. But to go further, 
and make equality of condition essential to liberty, would 
be to destroy both liberty and progress. The reason is, that 
inequality of condition, while it is a necessary consequence 
of liberty, is, at the same time, indispensable to progress. 
In order to understand why this is so, it is necessary to bear 
in mind, that the main spring to progress is, the desire of 
individuals to better their condition; and that the strongest 
impulse which can be given to it is, to leave individuals free 
to exert themselves in the manner they may deem best for 
that purpose, as far at least as it can be done consistently 
with the ends for which government is ordained, — and to 
secure to all the fruits of their exertions. Now, as individ- 
uals differ greatly from each other, in intelligence, sagacity, 
energy, perseverance, skill, habits of industry and economy, 
physical power, position and opportunity, — the necessary 
effect of leaving all free to exert themselves to better their 
condition, must be a corresponding inequality between those 
who may possess these qualities and advantages in a high 
degree, as will place them on a level with those who do not; 
or to deprive them of the fruits of their exertions. But to 
impose such restrictions on them would be destructive of 
liberty, — while to deprive them of the fruits of their exer- 
tions, would be to destroy the desire of bettering their con- 
dition. It is, indeed, this inequality of condition between 
the front and rear ranks, in the march of progress, which 
gives so strong an impulse to the former to maintain their 
position, and to the latter to press forward into their files. 
This gives to progress its greatest impulse. To force the 
front rank back to the rear, or attempt to push forward the 
rear into line with the front, by the interposition of the 
government, would put an end to the impulse, and effectually 
arrest the march of progress. 

These great and dangerous errors have their origin in the 
prevalent opinion that all men are born free and equal; — 
than which nothing can be more unfounded and false. It 
rests upon the assumption of a fact, which is contrary to 
universal observation, in whatever light it may be regarded. 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


115 


It is, indeed, difficult to explain how an opinion so destitute 
of all sound reason, ever could have been so extensively enter- 
tained, unless we regard it as being confounded with another, 
which has some semblance of truth ; — but which, when prop- 
erly understood, is not less false and dangerous. I refer to 
the assertion, that all men are equal in the state of nature; 
meaning, by a state of nature, a state of individuality, sup- 
posed to have existed prior to the social and political state; 
and in which men lived apart and independent of each other. 
If such a state ever did exist, all men would have been, in- 
deed, free and equal in it ; that is, free to do as they pleased, 
and exempt from the authority or control of others — as, by 
supposition, it existed anterior to society and government. 
But such a state is purely hypothetical. It never did, nor 
can exist ; as it is inconsistent with the preservation and per- 
petuation of the race. It is, therefore, a great misnomer to 
call it the state of nature. Instead of being the natural 
state of man, it is, of all conceivable states, the most opposed 
to his nature — most repugnant to his feelings, and most in- 
compatible with his wants. His natural state is, the social 
and political — the one for which his Creator made him, and 
the only one in which he can preserve and perfect his race. 
As, then, there never was such a state as the, so called, state 
of nature, and never can be, it follows, that men, instead of 
being born in it, are born in the social and political state; 
and of course, instead of being born free and equal, are born 
subject, not only to parental authority, but to the laws and 
institutions of the country where born, and under whose pro- 
tection they draw their first breath. With these remarks, I 
return from this digression, to resume the thread of the dis- 
course. 


THE SOVEREIGNTY OF THE STATE . 1 
(From the letter to Gov. Hamilton.) 

I will next proceed to state some of the results which 
necessarily follow from the facts which have been established. 
The first, and, in reference to the subject of this commu- 


x This famous letter was written by Calhoun at Fort Hill, S. C., August 28, 1832. 


116 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


nication, the most important, is, that there is no direct and 
immediate connection between the individual citizens of a 
State and the General Government. The relation between 
them is through the State. The Union is a union of States 
as communities, and not a union of individuals. As mem- 
bers of a State, her citizens were originally subject to no 
control but that of the State, and could be subject to no 
other, except by the act of the State itself. The Constitu- 
tion was, accordingly, submitted to the States for their sep- 
arate ratification ; and it was only by the ratification of the 
State that its citizens became subject to the control of the 
General Government. The ratification of any other, or all 
the other States, without its own, could create no connection 
between them and the General Government, nor impose on 
them the slightest obligation. Without the ratification of 
their own State, they would stand in the same relation to 
the General Government as do the citizens or subjects of any 
foreign State ; and we find the citizens of North Carolina and 
Rhode Island actually bearing that relation to the Govern- 
ment for some time after it went into operation ; these States 
having, in the first instance, declined to ratify. Nor had the 
act of any individual the least influence in subjecting him to 
the control of the General Government, except as it might 
influence the ratification of the Constitution by his own 
State. Whether subject to its control or not, depended 
wholly on the act of the State. His dissent had not the least 
weight against the assent of the State, nor his assent against 
its dissent. It follows, as a necessary consequence, that the 
act of ratification bound the State as a community, as is 
expressly declared in the article of the Constitution above 
quoted, and not the citizens of the State as individuals; 
the latter being bound through their State, and in conse- 
quence of the ratification of the former. Another, and a 
highly important consequence, as it regards the subject under 
investigation, follows with equal certainty; that, on a ques- 
tion whether a particular power exercised by the General 
Government be granted by the Constitution, it belongs to the 
State as a member of the Union, in her sovereign capacity 
in convention, to determine definitely, as far as her citizens 
are concerned, the extent of the obligation which she con- 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


117 


tracted ; and if, in her opinion, the act exercising the power 
be unconstitutional, to declare it null and void, which declar- 
ation would be obligatory on her citizens. In coming to this 
conclusion, it may be proper to remark, to prevent misrepre- 
sentation, that I do not claim for a State the right to abro- 
gate an act of the General Government. It is the Constitu- 
tion that annuls an unconstitutional act. Such an act is of 
itself void and of no effect. What I claim is, the right of 
the State, as far as its citizens are concerned , to declare the 
extent of the obligation, and that such declaration is binding 
on them — a right, when limited to its citizens, flowing di- 
rectly from the relation of the State to the General Govern- 
ment on the one side, and its citizens on the other, as already 
explained, and resting on the most plain and solid reasons. 


SECESSION AND NULLIFICATION. 

(From the same.) 

First, they are wholly dissimilar in their nature. One has 
reference to the parties themselves , and the other to their 
agents. Secession is a withdrawal from the Union ; a sep- 
aration from partners, and, as far as depends on the number 
withdrawing, a dissolution of the partnership. It presup- 
poses an association ; a union of several States or individuals 
for a common object. Wherever these exist, secession may; 
and where they do not, it cannot. Nullification, on the con- 
trary, presupposes the relation of principal and agent: the 
one granting a power to be executed, — the other, appointed 
by him with authority to execute it; and is simply a declara- 
tion on the part of the principal, made in due form, that an 
act of the agent transcending his power is null and void. It 
is a right belonging exclusively to the relation between prin- 
cipal and agent, to be found wherever it exists, and in all its 
forms, between several, or an association of principals, and 
their joint agents, as well as between a single principal and 
his agent. 

The difference in their object is no less striking than in 
their nature. The object of secession is to free the with- 
drawing member from the obligation of the association or 


118 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


union, and is applicable to cases where the object of the 
association or union has failed, either by an abuse of power 
on the part of its members, or other causes. Its direct and 
immediate object, as it concerns the withdrawing member, 
is the dissolution of the association or union, as far as it is 
concerned. On the contrary, the object of nullification is to 
confine the agent within the limits of his powers, by arrest- 
ing his acts transcending them, not with the view of destroy- 
ing the delegated or trust power, but to preserve it, by com- 
pelling the agent to fulfil the object for which the agency or 
trust was created ; and is applicable only to cases where the 
trust or delegated powers are transcended on the part of the 
agent. Without the power of secession, an association or 
union, formed for the common good of all the members, 
might prove ruinous to some, by the abuse of power on the 
part of the others; and without nullification the agent might, 
under color of construction, assume a power never intended 
to be delegated, or to convert those delegated to objects 
never intended to be comprehended in the trust, to the 
ruin of the principal, or in case of a joint agency, to the 
ruin of some of the principals. Each has, thus, its appro- 
priate object, but objects in their nature very dissimilar; so 
much so, that, in case of an association or union, where the 
powers are delegated to be executed by an agent, the abuse 
of power, on the part of the agent, to the injury of one or 
more of the members, would not justify secession on their 
part. The rightful remedy in that case would be nullifica- 
tion. There would be neither right nor pretext to secede: 
not right, because secession is applicable only to the acts of 
the members of the association or union, and not to the act 
of the agent; nor pretext, because there is another, and 
equally efficient remedy, short of the dissolution of the asso- 
ciation or union, which can only be justified by necessity. 
Nullification may, indeed, be succeeded by secession. In the 
case stated, should the other members undertake to grant 
the power nullified, and should the nature of the power be 
such as to defeat the object of the association or union, at 
least as far as the member nullifying is concerned, it would 
then become an abuse of power on the part of the principal, 
and thus present a case where secession would apply ; but in 


JOHN CALDWELL CALHOUN 


119 


no other could it be justified, except it be for a failure of the 
association or union to effect the object for which it was 

created, independent of any abuse of power 

There are many who acknowledge the right of a State to 
secede, but deny its right to nullify ; and yet, it seems impos- 
sible to admit the one without admitting the other. They 
both presuppose the same structure of the Government, — 
that it is a Union of the States, as forming political commu- 
nities, — the same right on the part of the States, as members 
of the Union, to determine for their citizens the extent of the 
powers delegated and those reserved, — and, of course, to de- 
cide whether the Constitution has or has not been violated. 


120 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THOMAS COOPER 

Thomas Cooper was born at London, October 22, 1759, 
and died at Columbia, South Carolina, May 11, 1840. He 
was educated at Oxford, where he imbibed liberal views. 
He was in sympathy with the French Revolution, went to 
Paris during those stormy times, and was on intimate terms 
with the Jacobin leaders. While in France he ran against 
the Duke of Orleans for a seat in the Convention. Coming 
to America in 1792, he made the acquaintance of the leading 
men of the nation, and threw himself warmly into the cause 
of Jeffersonian Democracy. He first resided in Northum- 
berland, Pennsylvania, where he met his friend, Dr. Priestly, 
the celebrated chemist. During the high political excite- 
ment of the time, he took an active part in politics, was 
tried for libel under the sedition law, and sentenced to six 
months’ imprisonment and a fine of four hundred dollars. 
In 1806 he was appointed one of the Judges of the Court of 
Common Pleas, but was removed for arbitrary conduct by 
Governor Snyder in 1811, at the request of the Legislature. 
He held successively the chair of chemistry at Dickinson 
College, of chemistry and mineralogy in the University of 
Pennsylvania, and of chemistry in South Carolina College. 
From 1820 to 1834 he was president of the last named col- 
lege, but he was forced to resign on account of his religious 
beliefs and his hostility to the clergy. His last days were 
spent in codifying the Statutes of the State, a work assigned 
him by the Legislature. 

Dr. Cooper was the author of Lectures on the Elements 
of Political Economy, 1826; Manual of Political Economy, 
1833; Medical Jurisprudence; Emporium of Arts and Sci- 
ences, 2 vols. ; Essay on the Pentateuch; Information Con- 
cerning America; and numerous pamphlets and articles in 
the Southern Quarterly and in the Southern Quarterly Re- 
view. 


THOMAS COOPER 


121 


THE DISTRIBUTION OP WEALTH. 

(From Lectures on the Elements of Political Economy, 1826.) 

It would be desirable if it can be accomplished, so to regu- 
late the ultimate distribution of consumeable produce, that 
every human creature in society, should have a full and rea- 
sonable share of the necessaries and comforts of life, who 
contributes his full and reasonable share of industry to earn 
them. In no case of human society as yet devised or known, 
does this take place, except in newly settled countries, where 
land is cheap and plentiful, and bodily labour greatly in 
demand, as in the back country of America. In every civi- 
lized country, such as modern communities on the European 
model are called, it is with great difficulty that a healthy 
labourer, with the utmost exertion, can procure wages suffi- 
cient to supply the necessaries of life for himself, a wife and 
child. In Great Britain and Ireland, at this moment, there 
are a million of labouring poor in this melancholy situation ; 
owing, as I think, to the glut of commodities and the de- 
creased demand for labour, produced by machinery. But in 
every country of Europe, population presses hard upon sub- 
sistence; in every country of Europe, enormous wealth and 
disgusting luxurious extravagance, are found in the vicinity 
of abject poverty, of pain, want, disease, and misery. Not 
individual merely, but family misery, pervading large dis- 
tricts, and thousands of wretches who inhabit and barely 
exist in them. In every country of Europe, great capitalists 
live luxuriously, if not idly, on the wasting labour of the 
miserable poor. Hitherto, governmental policy has favoured 
capitalists by granting them monopolies in various ways. 

In such a distribution of national wealth and earnings, the 
rich manifestly receive too much; the labouring poor too 
little. The misery of the mass of the people in Great Britain, 
is not unknown to, nor is similar misery unfelt in our own 
country: by the report of the committee on the pauperism 
of the lower classes in Philadelphia, last year a woman work- 
ing with her needle as industriously as the powers of nature 
will permit, can hardly spare out of her scanty earnings for 
a twelve months labour, more than sixteen dollars to supply 
herself with food. This is a miserable state of things. God 


122 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


forbid this country should ever become an exporting, manu- 
facturing country. Let others cherish that dreadful system ; 
may it never become an American system ; may it perish and 
fail here. 

This being the actual state of things, let us examine and 
try to discover, if we can, the cause of the evil, and its rem- 
edy. I enter upon this investigation in despair. I should 
quit it at once, as beyond my powers ; but where I fail, others 
may perchance succeed. 

First then, as to the cause and source of this horrible in- 
equality of conditions. 

Price is made up of cost of the raw material, profits of 
capital, and wages paid to the operative; there are no other 
elements of price. Cost of raw material constitutes but a 
small proportion. When profits fall, price continuing the 
same, wages rise, for the labourer receives a larger 'propor- 
tion of the price; when wages fall, profits rise for the same 
reason. Hence, if the wages of the labourer be too small to 
enable him to obtain the necessaries of life, either the price 
of the article is too low, or the profits of capital too high. 
If the capitalist therefore finds it worth his while to manu- 
facture the article, it is because he obtains his profit at the 
expense of the health and the comfort of the worn out 
starving operative. It is manifest, this state of things ought 
not to exist if it can be remedied. Where and what is the 
remedy? . 

Capital, whether in the form of raw material, or of the 
plant, ( houses, shops, machinery, tools, land, ) or in the form 
of money, is not of itself productive at all. It can do noth- 
ing ; it cannot stir ; it cannot produce — it is merely an instru- 
ment in the hand of the labourer or operative. It is the man 
who uses it to a good and useful purpose, and he alone who 
renders it productive. Of itself it is worth no more than a 
tree of mahogany, growing in the wilds of Honduras. 

The whole of price, therefore, belongs, of right, to him 
who alone confers the value, which produces price. Profits 
charged by the capitalist, are a fraud on the operative, who 
is thus robbed of what he alone has earned, and which would 
have had no existence but for his skill and industry. 


THOMAS COOPER 


123 


What are we to say to these systems which proceed upon 
the worthlessness of science and intellect — which makes the 
labour of the hands every thing, and the labour of the head 
nothing ? 1 Which rank James Watt and Robert Fulton be- 
low the blacksmith whom they employ? Which distributes 
the savings of a life of labour, among men hardly yet arrived 
at years of discretion, and whose labour has not yet earned 
a cent? And this to the exclusion of the family of the labo- 
rious deceased ? 2 

Without wealth enough to afford leisure, there can be no 
cultivation of intellect; without wealth there can be no pur- 
suit of knowledge, no domestic libraries, no apparatus for 
scientific investigation, no expensive experiments, no public 
improvement by means of the voluntary pursuits of indi- 
viduals who dedicate themselves to knowledge — men to whom 
the world is indebted for all it knows. These plans of medi- 
ocrity and equality, where every man is to have a mouthful 
of knowledge, and no man a belly-full, are the dreams of pre- 
sumptuous ignorance — of persons who know not the biogra- 
phy of the benefactors of the human race. 

Throughout the whole of this book, I have laboured to 
shew, that from wealth which industry produces, frugality 
must save; that this saving is capital, which has no other 
means or source of existence; that capital seeking employ- 
ment, is the parent of all demand for labour; that demand 
for labour, alone produces wages; that subsistence is the 
fruit of wages ; and population of subsistence. Hence, there 
is no proposition in Euclid more demonstrable, than that 
subsistence and population depend exclusively on industry 
and frugality. But where is the use of industry and fru- 
gality, if those who exercise these virtues, have no right to 
dispose of the property which results from them? . 

But I know of no remedy for these (to me) most manifest 
errors, both of talent and of ignorance, but free discussion, 
more extended information, and of course a more extended 
system of national education, for those who will honestly 
entitle themselves to it. But as to perfect equality between 


lr The theory advocated by Thomas Hodgekin in his Popular Political Economy. 

2 Proposed by Ming & Skidmore, Free Inquiry, 1830. 


124 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


human beings — nature has denied it, and human provisions 
cannot establish it. Men are born with differences in bodily 
strength, in mental capacity; differences that operate on 
every circumstance of life to which they are subsequently 
exposed, and which daily increase the distance between man 
and man. These cannot be obviated or eradicated. All 
that society can do, is to throw no unfair and artificial obsta- 
cles in the way of honest exertion; and to take care that 
industrious effort shall have fair play. 


JAMES CARROL COURTENAY 


125 


JAMES CARROL COURTENAY 

James Carrol Courtenay was born at Charleston, Jan- 
uary 14, 1803, and died there February 3, 1835. He came 
of a good family of mingled Irish and English stock. He 
received his early training from his mother, and in young 
manhood became a skillful surveyor, in the meantime pur- 
suing his studies at night. For several years he conducted 
an excellent English school and taught in the College of 
Charleston. A memorial stone in Grace Church, Charleston, 
thus felicitously summarizes his character and career : “In- 
gen io stat sine morte Decus. Although his life was short, 
in its achievements it was long. Self-taught, without school 
or college advantages, he early became a successful votary 
of the exact sciences. One of the earliest, if not the first, 
public appeal from a private citizen advocating the founding 
of a National Astronomical Observatory was written and 
published by him when only twenty-four years of age, and 
is preserved in the historical archives of the country. An 
eminent instructor, an attractive member of society, the de- 
light and pride of numerous friends, this memorial will pre- 
serve his name and achievements.” 

Professor Courtenay’s Inquiry Into the Propriety of Es- 
tablishing a National Observatory was published in 1827. 1 

ECLIPSE OF THE SUN, NOVEMBER, 1 834. 

(Originally printed in the Charleston Courier .) 

Having completed our arrangements, the critical moment 
drew near, and the first contact was observed with all the 
precision that could be desired. The interest in the scene 
increased with every minute. We were in a few minutes to 
witness one of the most uncommon spectacles of the celestial 


x For the above sketch and for the succeeding selection I am indebted to Hon. 
William A. Courtenay, of Columbia. 


126 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


world — one that we shall never behold again in Carolina. 
We were to witness the verification of a prediction foretold 
years before and behold in it one of the highest triumphs of 
human intellect. These added to the gloomy and almost 
shadowless appearance of surrounding objects and the hur- 
ried and novel train of ideas which the whole scene drew 
forth, pressed strangly on our minds. In another instant 
total darkness came on, and it was not until that imposing 
period of time that we realized the scene in all its strength. 
It was awful! Burke would have recollected it as one of 
the most glorious instances of the sublime. For ourselves, 
we felt the ennobling fire of the poet rather than the cool 
precision of the astronomer; and it was with infinite regret 
that we checked this feeling to come down to the matter-of- 
fact details of minutes and seconds. 

There is something about this total darkness which has 
never been described. The accounts of it are vague and un- 
satisfactory. This fact, acknowledged by all, is of the most 
extraordinary character. Some suppose the atmosphere to 
have changed its character, and feel persuaded that the sound 
of the human voice at this particular time is conducted in a 
different tone. Others suppose it to exist simply in the few 
remaining rays of light, and see everything in the ghastly 
hues of a modified moonlight. The latter opinion may be 
correct. The circle of white light surrounding the sun at 
the time of total darkness closely resembled a silver border, 
though not so refulgent or glittering. Its breadth appeared 
to us about one-third the sun’s diameter. For a considerable 
period before the total darkness began Venus appeared, and 
shortly after Antares, well known to seamen as the “scor- 
pion’s head,” shone brightly forth, although within six de- 
grees of the sun. Mercury is said to have appeared, but we 
were not fortunate enough to perceive him. Other stars 
were visible at the same time, but the period of total dark- 
ness was too short to allow us to note them particularly. 


WILLIAM CRAFTS, JR. 


127 


WILLIAM GRAFTS, JR. 

William Crafts, Jr., was born at Charleston, January 
24, 1787, and died at Lebanon Springs, New York, September 
23, 1826. He was prepared for college by the scholarly 
divine, Dr. Buist, and was admitted to the sophomore class 
at Harvard in the autumn of 1802. He said later of his 
college life : “I had everything which could excite ambition, 
so I had everything which ambition could desire; of college 
honors I had as many as I wanted.” Having graduated with 
high honors, he returned in 1806 to his native city, and 
studied law in the office of Ford and DeSaussure. His sub- 
sequent career at the bar, in the Legislature and as editor 
of the Charleston Courier, was no less useful than brilliant. 
His eloquent speech in the Legislature in 1813 saved the then 
infant public schools of South Carolina from destruction. 
The Crafts Public School in Charleston bears his name. 
After his death in 1826 a eulogy of his life and character 
was delivered by his friend, Edward S. Courtenay. 

A collection of Crafts’s works, comprising his poems, 
essays, and orations, with a memoir, was published in 
Charleston in 1828. Among his best poems are : “Sullivan’s 
Island,” “Love a Prisoner,” “Love Asleep,” “Love Among 
the Birds,” and “Love’s Billet-Doux.” His two most nota- 
ble orations are his Phi Beta Kappa address at Harvard and 
an Oration on Washington. 1 

LOVE A PRISONER. 

(From Lewisohn’s Literature in South Carolina.) 

The snow-drop is in bloom, 

And the young earth’s perfume 
Scents new the floating air ; 

It is the breath of love — 

Beneath, around, above, 

Young love is there. 

Come, let us try to snare him — see, 

Love smiling waits for you and me. 

^on. William A. Courtenay kindly furnished the author the material for the 
above sketch. 


128 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Bind him with the jasmine flower, 
Hide him in a myrtle bower, 

On thornless roses let him rest; 
See his gracious eyelids move, 

Hope and joy are eyes of love, 

Kiss them and be blest. 

Love gives his own dear heart to be 
One half for you, one half for me. 


love's benediction. 

(Prom Davidson’s Living Writers of the South, 1869.) 

Be as thou art, for ever young, 

Still on thy cheek the vernal bloom, 

The honey’s essence on thy tongue, 

And on thy lips the rose perfume. 

Be as thou art, for ever fair, 

Still beam with love, those eyes of thine ; 

For ever wave thy yellow hair, 

And round thy graceful bosom twine. 

Those coral lips, those teeth of pearl, 

Those smiles, those glances, and those sighs 

Heaven save them long, my charming girl, 

To bless this heart, to bless these eyes. 

For all of thee, thank heaven, is mine ; 

And I am happier made by thee; 

As when the oak supports the vine, 

’Tis glad and looketh cheerfully. 


CLARA VICTORIA DARGAN 


129 


CLARA VICTORIA DARGAN 

Clara Victoria Dargan was born in Fairfield District, 
South Carolina, in 1840. Dr. Janies Wood Davidson wrote 
of her in his Living Writers of the South (1869) : “Her 
education was very carefully conducted; and her talents, 
especially in music, very early showed themselves. She was 
almost a prodigy in music, — being able to play upon the 
piano some quite intricate pieces at an age so tender that 
she found some difficulty in reaching the instrument. She 
wrote verses full of strange fancies before she entered her 
teens. Since th© war she was engaged in teaching music for 
one year in Florence, Alabama. She is today resident in 
interior Georgia.” 

Miss Dargan was the author of Riverlands, 1863, a tale 
of life upon the Ashley, in South Carolina, first published 
as a prize story in The Southern Field and Fireside ; Helen 
Howard, by “Esther Chesney,” 1861; and many poems con- 
tributed to various Southern periodicals, among them “Then 
and Now,” and “Jean to Jamie,” of which Timrod said: “If 
simplicity and pathos be poetry, then this is poetry of the 
highest stamp. The verses flow with the softness of a wo- 
man’s tears.” 

THEN AND NOW. 

(From Davidson’s Living Writers of the South, 1869.) 

1864. 

I woke within the darkened dawn — 

I woke, and saw the mournful stars 
Go slowly trooping o’er the plain, 

Bearing the grand old warrior Mars 
Upon his crimson shield, 

And said, “It is a sign to me 
That he is dead — his soul is free. 

As wane those stars within the west, 

So he has found a dreamless rest 
Upon the battle-field. 


130 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“God pity me! He was my friend, 

And this his welcome natal morn; 

Yet there he lies so cold and still, 

And I lie here — alone, forlorn, 

And watch the day grow red, — 

The dreary day ! Oh ! piteous stars, 

Bear to his rest your hero Mars, 

But look across the azure plain, — 

Look back, and tell me once again, 

Is my brave hero dead?” 

1866. 

I thought you dead ; it was a dream ! 

Fate had a bitterer lot in store: 

You to live on, estranged and cold, 

I to exist, yet live no more. 

Another natal morn has dawned; 

I watched the stars at break of day, 

As far behind the western steeps 
They faded into misty gray, 

And spoke not. Only in my heart 
There rose a faintly murmured prayer : 
“God bless my friend ! though friend no more,” 
And silent passed into a tear. 


JOHN DAVIS 


131 


JOHN DAVIS 

John Davis, of Coosawhatchie, South Carolina, was the 
author of a duodecimo pamphlet of poems, a rare copy of 
which is in the library of the College of Charleston. Though 
foreign born, he adopted South Carolina as his home, and 
insisted on being known as “John Davis of Coosawhatchie.” 
Mr. Ludwig Lewisohn, in his scholarly history of Literature 
in South Carolina, speaks of his lines to the whippoorwill 
as probably the first sonnet written in this State. It is cer- 
tainly one of the first pieces of true poetry in the literature 
of South Carolina. My attention has been called, by my 
colleague, Professor Yates Snowden, to a book of travels, 
which contains some graphic sketches of life in the low 
country of South Carolina, during the early years of the last 
century. A copy is owned by the Charleston Library. 


SONNET TO THE WHIPPOORWILL. 

(From Poems. Written at Coosawhatchie in South Carolina.) 

Poor, plaintiff bird, whose melancholy lay 
Suits the despondence of my troubled breast, 

I hail thy coming at the close of day, 

When all thy tribe are hushed in balmy rest. 

Wisely thou shunn’st the gay, tumultuous throng, 
Whose mingled voices empty joys denote, 

And for the sober night reserv’st thy song, 

When echo from the wood repeats thy note. 

Pensive, at silent night, I love to roam, 

Where elves and fairies tread the dewy green, 

While the clear moon, beneath the azure dome 
Sheds a soft lustre o’er the sylvan scene, 

And hear thee tell thy moving tale of woe, 

To the bright Empress of the Silver Bow. 


132 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ROBERT MEANS DAVIS 

Robert Means Davis was born in Fairfield District, South 
Carolina, April 9, 1849, and died in Columbia, South Caro- 
lina, March 13, 1904. He was the eldest son of Isabella 
Harper Means and Henry Campbell Davis, whose grand- 
father came to Laurens District from Maryland. On both 
sides his ancestry had been connected with the best in the 
history and traditions of South Carolina. He was a nephew 
of Mrs. William C. Preston on his father’s side, and on his 
mother’s, a nephew of Governor J. H. Means. He received 
his early education from private tutors, and at the noted 
school in Abbeville District, conducted by Octavius T. Por- 
cher, and his preparation for college at Mt. Zion College at 
Winnsboro, under Professor G. A. Woodward. He entered 
South Carolina College in 1867, and graduated with highest 
honors in 1869 with the degree of A. B., and in 1872 he 
received the degree of LL. B. He taught for two years in 
the schools of California, then for five years at Mt. Zion 
College, which he converted into a graded school — the first 
of its kind outside of Charleston. In 1876, as Secretary of 
the Democratic Executive Committee, he was in the centre 
of activity in conducting the memorable campaign which 
resulted in the election of Wade Hampton. In 1882 he was 
elected to the chair of history and political economy in South 
Carolina College, and filled it with distinguished ability and 
success until his death twenty-three years later. He mar- 
ried, January 3, 1877, Sarah Elizabeth LeConte, daughter 
of the distinguished geologist, Dr. Joseph LeConte, of the 
University of California. He did much brilliant editorial 
work on the Winnsboro News and Herald, the Charleston 
News and Courier, the Columbia Register and The State, 
and made numerous contributions to these papers on his- 
torical and political subjects. He wrote much also in lighter 
vein, and always in a style that was entertaining, vigorous, 


ROBERT MEANS DAVIS 


133 


and convincing. Among Professor Davis’s writing may be 
mentioned an essay on Octavius Theodore Porcher; an eco- 
nomic paper in The Forum for November, 1892, entitled 
“The Matter with the Small Farmer” ; a series of articles in 
The State on the Boer war; The Raison d’Etre of the South 
Carolina College, 1901; and an Historical Sketch of Educa- 
tion in South Carolina. He died while still in the prime of 
intellectual activity and usefulness. 1 

OCTAVIUS THEODORE PORCHER AS A TEACHER. 

(From The Educational, 1903.) 

His method of instruction will interest teachers in the 
present day. Mr. Porcher’s motto was thoroughness. In 
arithmetic he drilled the boys, especially in fractions, re- 
quiring the reasons for every operation until all but the 
dullards had facility in mechanical operations at least. Two 
small boys had each a long division example assigned to 
them morning and afternoon and I think they must have 
worked long division a year. Above this the classes made 
good progress. 

When our class began algebra, Mr. Porcher explained the 
subject for about a week and then said, “Boys, I expect every 
tub to stand on its own bottom. You must receive no assist- 
ance from any one.” This was a severe rule but it was scru- 
pulously obeyed. Every pupil did his own ciphering in 
Loonies’ Algebra with more or less success. Occasionally 
Mr. P. explained an example to the class but he generally 
let us rely upon ourselves. It became an object of pride to 
wrestle with difficulties. Sometimes the class w r as held a 
week on a difficult example or problem, until a member was 
able to exclaim “Eureka!” when he had the privilege of ex- 
plaining it to the class at the board. I think I went through 
the whole algebra without having help from Mr. Porcher on 
more than three or four problems. Bight here an instance 
may be given to show how even the most thorough teacher 
may fail to teach everything. I had been taught that the 


*My thanks are due Mrs. Sarah LeConte Davis for the above sketch and the 
succeeding selection. 


10— W. 


134 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


first letters of the alphabet indicated known quantities, and 
the last letters unknown quantities, and I had no trouble in 
knowing how to find the value of x, y, or z. But on reaching 
arithmetical progression, when the quantities in the formula 
were represented by a, 1, d, and s, and was confronted with 
the task of “deducing the value of any two when the other 
three were given,” I broke down, because there was no x to 
be found anywhere. To my mortification another boy ex- 
plained it to the class. Then, as when Columbus made the 
egg to stand on end, the work was easy enough. Then first I 
grasped the idea that any letter might be used. Some of 
the class made poor success in algebra, but they scorned 
illicit aid. 


JAMES WOOD DAVIDSON 


135 


james Wood davidson 

Tames Wood Davidson was born in Newberry County, 
th Carolina, in 1829, and died in Florida in 1905. In 
2 he graduated at South Carolina College. He taught 
Bvinnsboro and afterwards at Columbia until 1861. He 
fii volunteered as a soldier in the Army of Northern Vir- 
a, and served throughout the war. From 1S65 to 1871 
Again taught at Columbia, then went to Washington, 
fre he held a government clerkship, thence in 1873 to New 
i, where he engaged in journalistic and literary work. 
He also resided for a time in Florida, and represented Dade 
County in the Legislature. 

Dr. Davidson is best known by his Living Writers of the 
South, 1869, an incondite and curious but interesting critical 
work. He wrote, also, Poetry of the Future, The Corre- 
spondent, School History of South Carolina, The Bell of 
Doom (poem), Florida of Today, and for thirty-six years 
was compiling an (as yet unpublished) Dictionary of South- 
ern Authors, which contains an index of over 4,000 names. 
For an appreciation of his life and character, by Colonel 
John Peyre Thomas, author of a History of the South Caro- 
lina Military Academy, see The State for July 25, 1897. 

MRS. BALl/S THE JACKET OF GRAY. 

(From Living Writers of the South, 1869.) 

The only publication that X have seen of Mrs. Ball’s, ex- 
cepting occasional poems, is a brochure of about thirty pages, 
entitled The Jacket of Gray, and Other Fugitive Poems, pub- 
lished in Charleston, 1866. The epigraph-dedication of this 
collection is, “In Memoriam of our Loved and Lost Cause, 
and our Martyred Dead, ‘outnumbered, not outbraved.’ ” 
Most of the poems are in the spirit of that dedicatory sen- 
tence. The initial poem — a real heart-poem, full of pathos, 
and passion, and tears — is enough to stamp the author as a 


134 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


first letters of the alphabet indicated known quantities, a 
the last letters unknown quantities, and I had no trouble 
knowing how to find the value of x, y, or z. But on reach 
arithmetical progression, when the quantities in the form 
were represented by a, 1, d, and s, and was confronted v 
the task of “deducing the value of any two when the ot 
three were given,” I broke down, because there was no . 
be found anywhere. To my mortification another boy , 
plained it to the class. Then, as when Columbus made f? 
egg to stand on end, the work was easy enough. Then fii 
grasped the idea that any letter might be used. Som 
the class made poor success in algebra, but they sco> 
illicit aid. 


JAMES WOOD DAVIDSON 


135 


james Wood davidson 

James Wood Davidson was born in Newberry County, 
South Carolina, in 1829, and died in Florida in 1905. In 
1852 he graduated at South Carolina College. He taught 
at Winnsboro and afterwards at Columbia until 1861. He 
then volunteered as a soldier in the Army of Northern Vir- 
ginia, and served throughout the war. From 1865 to 1871 
he again taught at Columbia, then went to Washington, 
where he held a government clerkship, thence in 1873 to New 
York, where he engaged in journalistic and literary work. 
He also resided for a time in Florida, and represented Dade 
County in the Legislature. 

Dr. Davidson is best known by his Living Writers of the 
South, 1869, an incondite and curious but interesting critical 
work. He wrote, also, Poetry of the Future, The Corre- 
spondent, School History of South Carolina, The Bell of 
Doom (poem), Florida of Today, and for thirty-six years 
was compiling an (as yet unpublished) Dictionary of South- 
ern Authors, which contains an index of over 4,000 names. 
For an appreciation of his life and character, by Colonel 
John Peyre Thomas, author of a History of the South Caro- 
lina Military Academy, see The State for July 25, 1897. 

MRS. BALI/’S THE JACKET OF GRAY. 

(From Living Writers of the South, 1869.) 

The only publication that I have seen of Mrs. Ball’s, ex- 
cepting occasional poems, is a brochure of about thirty pages, 
entitled The Jacket of Gray, and Other Fugitive Poems, pub- 
lished in Charleston, 1866. The epigraph-dedication of this 
collection is, “In Memoriam of our Loved and Lost Cause, 
and our Martyred Dead, ‘outnumbered, not outbraved.’ ” 
Most of the poems are in the spirit of that dedicatory sen- 
tence. The initial poem — a real heart-poem, full of pathos, 
and passion, and tears — is enough to stamp the author as a 


136 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


poet of true feeling ; not as one of Tennysonian art, or range, 
or style, but one like Eliza Cook, with her sweet, soft touches 
of nature, so easy that we forget the comparative absence of 
higher poetic art. I give it entire: 

THE JACKET OF GRAY. 

Fold it up carefully, lay it aside; 

Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; 

For dear must it be to our hearts evermore, 

The jacket of gray our loved soldier-boy wore. 

Can we ever forget when he joined the brave band 
That rose in defense of our dear southern land, 

And in his bright youth hurried on to the fray, 

How proudly he donned it — the jacket of gray? 

His fond mother blessed him, and looked up above, 
Commending to Heaven the child of her love; 

What anguish was hers mortal tongue cannot say, 

When he passed from her sight in the jacket of gray. 

But her country had called, and she would not repine, 
Though costly the sacrifice placed on its shrine; 

Her heart’s dearest hopes on its altar she lay, 

When she sent out her boy in the jacket of gray. 

Months passed, and war’s thunders rolled over the land, 
Unsheathed was the sword, and lighted the brand; 

We heard in the distance the sounds of the fray, 

And prayed for our boy in the jacket of gray. 

Ah vain, all in vain were our prayers and our tears, 

The glad shout of victory rang in our ears; 

But our treasured one on the red battle-field lay, 

While the life-blood oozed out on the jacket of gray. 

His young comrades found him, and tenderly bore 
The cold lifeless form to his home by the shore; 

Oh, dark were our hearts on that terrible day, 

When we saw our dead boy in the jacket of gray. 


JAMES WOOD DAVIDSON 


137 


All ! spotted and tattered, and stained now with gore, 
Was the garment which once he so proudly wore; 

We bitterly wept as we took it away, 

And replaced with death’s white robe the jacket of gray. 

We laid him to rest in his cold narrow bed, 

And graved on the marble we placed o’er his head, 

As the proudest tribute our sad hearts could pay — 

“He never disgraced the jacket of gray.” 

Then fold it up carefully, lay it aside, 

Tenderly touch it, look on it with pride; 

For dear must it be to our hearts evermore, 

The jacket of gray our loved soldier-boy wore! 

Simple as it is when viewed with the eye of poetic art, 
this poem has touched thousands of hearts, and will be treas- 
ured and kept, notwithstanding a blemish or two — as in the 
fourth stanza — as long as “John Anderson” or “The Old 
Arm-Chair.” 

Mrs. Ball, nde Rutledge, is a resident, and I believe a 
native of the city of Charleston, South Carolina. 

The following personal item I clip from a Southern jour- 
nal : “Mrs. Ball ignores all transcendentalism, as a poet, — 
she writes only what every person of common intelligence 
may understand. She is direct, and to the purpose; and 
these poems are such as are appropriated and appreciated 
at once by the hearts of our people. And, moreover, Mrs. 
Ball is one of those true Southern women who do not sit 
down and fold their hands over ruined hopes and fallen for- 
tunes, but who is ever up and doing, with a heart for any 
fate. Such unflagging energy while battling with adversity 
as she has displayed merits a large and generous reward; 
and we sincerely trust it will, ere long, be hers.” 

Mrs. Ball has also, since the war, contributed some stories 
of high order of merit to the Southern press. 


138 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


FRANCIS WARRINGTON DAWSON 

Francis Warrington Dawson was born at London, May 
17, 1840, and was killed under mysterious circumstances by 
Dr. T. B. McDow at Charleston, March 12, 1889. He was 
educated at various schools of London, and early developed a 
fondness for literature. None of his literary work, however, 
saw the light with the exception of four or five comedies. In 
1862 he sailed for South Carolina on the Nashville , ran the 
blockade at Beaufort, and enlisted as master’s mate in the 
Confederate navy. In order to engage in more active service 
he resigned from the navy and enlisted as a private in the 
Purcell battery in the Army of Northern Virginia, in June, 
1862. He was badly wounded at Mechanicsville, and was 
promoted for conspicuous bravery. He was captured and 
confined in Delaware for a short time in 1862, but was 
exchanged in time to take part in the battle of Fredericks- 
burg; and served under Longstreet in the Gettysburg and 
East Tennessee campaigns. He received a commission as 
captain of artillery in May, 1864, and served in the Valley 
campaign. After the close of the war he was connected for a 
year with the Richmond Examiner and Dispatch, and was 
assistant editor of the Charleston Mercury from 1866 till the 
fall of 1867, when he purchased an interest in the Charleston 
News, which was consolidated with the Courier in 1873. It 
was as editor of the News and Courier that Captain Dawson’s 
best work was done. His busy hands and fertile brain built 
up that great and influential newspaper, and did much for 
Charleston and the State. In the celebrated Bowen libel suit 
he struck a telling blow for the liberty of the press, and was 
knighted by Leo XIII in 1883 for his eminent service to good 
morals in the suppression of duelling. 


FRANCIS WARRINGTON DAWSON 


139 


THE CASH-SHANNON DUEL. 

(Editorial in The News and Courier, July 7, 1880.) 

There is not a gleam of light to relieve the darkness of the 
tragic scene at DuBose’s Bridge. A sweeter gentleman than 
Colonel Shannon, one more polished and refined, was not to 
be found in South Carolina. The temper of his adversary 
is exhibited in the letters and circulars laid before the public 
today. They speak for themselves, and in no uncertain tones. 

The original cause of the trouble was an allegation of 
fraud against Mrs. Cash in proceedings in which Colonel 
Shannon was one of the attorneys. It is evident from the 
letters of Captain Ellerbe that Colonel Shannon disclaimed 
all knowledge of the objectionable words, and disclaimed 
likewise any intention of giving offence. This is confirmed 
by the dispatch of our representative at Camden. None 
doubted Colonel Shannon’s courage, and he was apparently 
desirous of avoiding a duel. Well might he be! At his ripe 
age, surrounded by a large and dependent family, with troops 
of friends, he had nothing to gain by according or seeking 
satisfaction on the so-called “field of honour.” It cannot be 
believed that he would deliberately do wrong to any man; 
and it was out of the power of any one to harm him by angry 
words or vulgar abuse. 

The presumption is that the letters published by Colonel 
Cash so stung Colonel Shannon, knowing himself to be both 
brave and blameless, that he committed what we are obliged 
to regard as the error of challenging his accuser. It is an 
error that one is too ready to forgive, but tender affection 
for him who is slain should not prevent us from remembering 
that he who sends a challenge is more blameworthy, under 
ordinary circumstances, than he who accepts one. Colonel 
Cash was harmless, until Colonel Shannon’s challenge gave 
him his long-sought opportunity. 

The persons who acted as the friends of Colonel Shannon 
and Colonel Cash are, we presume, well known. It is not 
one of Colonel Cash’s faults to seek to evade responsibility 
for his acts. The names of the friends of Captain Ellerbe 
and Captain DePass are no secret. Under the State law, 
the acceptance of a challenge is an offence punishable by 


140 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


imprisonment in the Penitentiary, and by perpetual disfran- 
chisement and disability to hold any office of profit or honour 
under this State. For carrying or delivering a challenge, or 
for being present at any duel as a second or aid, or for giving 
countenance to a duel, the punishment is disability to hold 
any office of honour or trust, and imprisonment in the Peni- 
tentiary for not exceeding ten years. We are confident that 
public opinion will sustain the demand that the law be en- 
forced against every one connected with the challenges, and 
the duel, in Avhich Messrs. Cash, Ellerbe, and DePass were 
concerned. Unless this is done, ceremonious manslaughter 
is no crime in South Carolina, and the laws against duelling 
may as well be stricken from the statute book. There must 
be a beginning somewhere, and the conditions are favorable 
for testing conclusively the integrity and fearlessness of 
courts and juries in South Carolina. 

In vindication of the law, for the welfare of the whole 
people, not for vengeance upon individuals, public opinion, 
sorely conscious of the errors and perils of duelling, will 
insist that there be no vacillation or time-serving. This is 
due to the reputation of South Carolina, and to the good 
name of her children. We cast no stones at those who con- 
sider “The Code” a necessity or a shield, although, in our 
judgment, it is morally wrong and socially indefensible. 
How impotent it is! How vain it is! Once again he who 
was conceived to have done the wrong goes unscathed, and 
he who was sinned against lies dead, with a bullet in his 
noble, generous heart. 


SAMUEL HENRY DICKSON 


141 


SAMUEL HENRY DICKSON 

Samuel Henry Dickson was born at Charleston in 1798, 
and died in 1872. He received his education at the College of 
Charleston, where he was under the instruction of Judge 
King, Dr. Buist, and Dr. Hedley, and at Yale, where he 
graduated in 1814. After reading medicine in the office of 
Dr. P. G. Prioleau, he attended the medical school of the 
University of Pennsylvania, where he was granted a diploma 
in 1819. He held, with distinction, chairs in the Medical 
College of Charleston for eight years, in the Medical College 
of South Carolina for about twenty years, and in the Univer- 
sity of New York for three years. After the war between 
the North and the South in which he lost all his property, 
he continued his work as a professor of the Practice of Medi- 
cine in the Jefferson Medical College in Philadelphia. 

Dr. Dickson was the author of a number of poems, and 
published Dengue: Its History, Pathology, and Treatment, 
about 1827 ; Essays on Pathology and Therapeutics, 2 vols., 
1845; Essays on Slavery, 1845; Essays on Life, Sleep, Pain, 
&c., 1852 ; and Elements of Medicine, 1855. 

SOUTH CAROLINA. 

December 20, 1860. 

(From Simms’s War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

The deed is done ! the die is cast ; 

The glorious Rubicon is passed : 

Hail, Carolina ! free at last ! 

Strong in the right, I see her stand 

Where ocean laves the shelving sand ; 

Her own Palmetto decks the strand. 

She turns aloft her flashing eye; 

Radiant, her lonely star on high 

Shines clear amidst the darkening sky. 


142 


THE WEITEES OF SOUTH CAEOLINA 


Silent, along those azure deeps 
Its course her silver crescent keeps, 
And in soft light the landscape steeps. 

Fling forth her banner to the gale! 

Let all the hosts of earth assail, — 
Their fury and their force shall fail. 

Echoes the wide resounding shore, 
With voice above the Atlantic roar, 

Her sons proclaim her free once more ! 

Oh, land of heroes ! Spartan State ! 

In numbers few, in daring great, 

Thus to affront the frowns of fate! 

And while mad triumph rules the hour, 
And thickening clouds of menace lower, 
Bear back the tide of tyrant power. 

With steadfast courage, faltering never, 
Sternly resolved, her bonds we sever: 
Hail, Carolina! free forever! 


I SIGH FOE THE LAND OF THE CYPRESS AND PINE. 
(From The Charleston Book, 1848.) 

I sigh for the land of the cypress and pine, 

Where the jessamine blooms and the gay woodbine; 
Where the moss droops low from the green oak tree,- 
Oh ! that sun-bright land is the land for me ! 

The snowy flower of the orange there, 

Sheds its sweet fragrance through the air ; 

And the Indian rose delights to twine 
Its branches with the laughing vine. 


SAMUEL HENRY DICKSON 


143 


There the deer leaps light through the open glade, 
Or hides him far in the forest shade, 

When the woods resound in the dewy morn 
With the clang of the merry hunter’s horn. 

There the humming-bird of rainbow plume 
Hangs o’er the scarlet creeper’s bloom ; 

While midst the leaves, his varying dyes 
Sparkle like half-seen fairy eyes. 

There the echoes ring through the livelong day — 

With the mock-bird’s changeful roundelay; 

And at night when the scene is calm and still, 

With the moan of the plaintive whip-poor-will. 

Oh ! I sigh for the land of the cypress and pine, 

Of the laurel, the rose, and the gay woodbine ; 

Where the long gray moss decks the rugged oak tree — 
That sun-bright land is the land for me. 


144 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ANNA PEYRE DINNIES 

Anna Peyre Dinnies was born at Georgetown, South 
Carolina, in 1816, and died in New Orleans about 1888. She 
was a daughter of Justice W. F. Shackelford, of South Caro- 
lina, and was educated at a school in Charleston conducted 
by the daughters of Dr. Ramsay, the historian. At the age 
of fourteen she married John C. Dinnies, of St. Louis, where 
she resided until their removal to New Orleans about 1848. 
Mrs. Hales, in the Ladies’ Wreath, states that “Mrs. Dinnies 
became engaged to her future husband, through a literary 
correspondence, four years before their union, and that they 
never met until one week before their marriage. The con- 
tract was made solely from sympathy and congeniality of 
mind and taste; and that in their estimate of each other they 
were not disappointed may be inferred from the tone of her 
songs.” 

The greater number of her poems appeared originally in 
various magazines under the signature of “Moina.” In 1846 
she published a richly illustrated volume entitled The Floral 
Year, a sequence of one hundred poems arranged chronolog- 
ically in twelve groups. The edition was soon exhausted, but 
no subsequent one was issued. Among her best poems are 
“Wedded Love,” “The Wife,” “Love’s Messenger,” “Em- 
blems,” “The True Ballad of the Wanderer,” “The Greek 
Slave,” and “Carolina.” Shortly after her marriage she 
contributed to The Catholic Standard two series entitled 
“Rachel’s What-Not” and “Random Readings,” which 
attracted favorable attention. 


ANNA PEYRE DINNIES 


145 


THE WIFE. 

(From Davidson’s Living Writers of the South, 1869.) 

I could have stemmed misfortune’s tide, 
And borne the rich one’s sneer, 

Have braved the haughty glance of pride, 
Nor shed a single tear; 

I could have smiled on every blow 
From life’s full quiver thrown, 

While I might gaze on thee, and know 
I should not be “alone.” 

I could — I think I could have brooked 
E’en for a time, that thou 
Upon my fading face hadst looked 
With less of love than now ; 

For then I should at least have felt 
The sweet hope still my own 
To win thee back, and, whilst I dwelt 
On earth, not been “alone.” 

But thus to see, from day to day, 

Thy brightening eye and cheek, 

And watch thy life-sands waste away, 
Unnumbered, slowly, meek ; 

To meet thy smiles of tenderness, 

And catch the feeble tone 
Of kindness, ever breathed to bless, 

And feel, I’ll be “alone” ; 

To mark thy strength each hour decay, 
And yet thy hopes grow stronger, 

As, filled with heavenward trust, they say 
“Earth may not claim thee longer”; 
Nay, dearest, ’tis too much — this heart 
Must break when thou art gone; 

It must not be ; we may not part : 

I could not live “alone”! 


146 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE GREEK SLAVE 1 
(From the same.) 

Move gently, gently, — Galatea 2 lives ! 

Again hath genius waked to life the stone ! 

Art, with creative touch, here beauty gives, 

And matchless grace and purity are shown ! 

Mark the expression on her brow and cheek, 

And start not if those parted lips should speak! 

Gently, aye, gently, in her presence move; 

A sacred thing is sorrow such as hers ! 

For, though her Christian faith its depth reprove, 
Its hushed emotion every feature stirs. 

The swelling nostril, and the lips’ slight curl 
Betray thy struggles, hapless captive girl ! 

Thy faultless figure in its perfect grace, 

Charms but a moment as we lift our eyes 
Up to the holier beauty of thy face, 

Where the sad history of thy young life lies ; 
Engraven on each lineament serene , 

Is what thou art — what once thy fate has been. 

Beloved — how deeply, let thy beauty tell ! 

Wooed — as fair maids are ever wooed and won ! 
Torn from thine early home, where loved ones dwell, 
And placed in chains for men to gaze upon ! 

Deep is thy grief, young girl ! but strength is given 
To bear its burthen by thy trust in Heaven ! 

Yes ! strength is given by that faith divine, 

To thy proud spirit, to sustain its woe, 

And through thy lovely features still to shine, 
Veiling their beauty in its own mild glow ; 

While every shade seems so instinct with life, 

We deem thee living — like Pygmalion’s wife. 


1(t A Grecian maiden, made captive by the Turks, and exposed at Constantinople 
for sale. The cross and locket visible amid the drapery indicate that she is a 
Christian and beloved.” — Norman’s note on Powers’s statue of the Greek Slave. 

2 A statue endowed with life by Venus in response to the prayer of the sculptor 
Pygmalion. 


ANNA PEYRE DINNXES 


147 


CAROLINA. 

(From Simms's War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

In the hour of thy glory, 

When thy name was far renowned, 

When Sumter’s glowing story 

Thy bright escutcheon crowned ; 

Oh, noble Carolina ! how proud a claim was mine, 

That through homage and through duty, and birthright, I 
was thine. 

Exulting as I heard thee, 

Of every lip the theme, 

Prophetic visions stirred me, 

In a hope-illumined dream : 

A dream of dauntless valor, of battles fought and won, 
Where each field was but a triumph — a hero every son. 

And now, when clouds arise, 

And shadows round thee fall ; 

I lift to heaven my eyes, 

Those visions to recall ; 

For I cannot dream that darkness will rest upon thee long, 
Oh, lordly Carolina ! with thine arms and hearts so strong. 

Thy serried ranks of pine, 

Thy live-oaks spreading xvide, 

Beneath the sunbeams shine, 

In fadeless robes of pride; 

Thus marshalled on their native soil their gallant sons 
stand forth, 

As changeless as thy forests green, defiant of the North. 

The deeds of other days, 

Enacted by their sires, 

Themes long of love and praise, 

Have wakened high desires 
In every heart that beats within thy proud domain, 

To cherish their remembrance, and live those scenes again. 


148 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Each heart the home of daring, 

Each hand the foe of wrong, 

They’ll meet with haughty bearing, 

The war-ship’s thunder song; 

And though the base invader pollute thy sacred shore, 
They’ll greet him in their prowess as their fathers did of yore. 

His feet may press their soil, 

Or his numbers bear them down, 

In his vandal raid for spoil, 

His sordid soul to crown ; 

But his triumph will be fleeting, for the hour is drawing near, 
When the war-cry of thy cavaliers shall strike his startled ear. 

A fearful time shall come, 

When thy gathering bands unite, 

And the larum-sounding drum 
Calls to struggle for the Right ; 

“ Pro aris et pro focis” from rank to rank shall fly, 

As they meet the cruel foeman, to conquer or to die. 

Oh, then a tale of glory 
Shall yet again be thine, 

And the record of thy story 
The Laurel shall entwine ; 

Oh, noble Carolina ! oh, proud and lordly State ! 

Heroic deeds shall crown thee, and the Nations own thee great. 


JOHN DRAYTON 


149 


JOHN DRAYTON 

John Drayton was born at “Drayton Hall” on the Ashley 
River, in South Carolina, in 1766, and died in 1822. He was 
a son of Chief-Justice William Henry Drayton (1742-1779), 
the president of the Council of Safety and of the Provincial 
Congress. After having studied at Princeton, he was sent 
to England to complete his education. He afterwards studied 
law, became distinguished at the bar, was appointed a dis- 
trict judge of the United States and held this position at the 
time of his death. He was Governor of South Carolina from 
1800 to 1802, and from 1808 to 1810. 

Governor Drayton edited and published his father’s State 
papers and memoirs of the early part of the Revolution. His 
own Memoirs of the Revolution in South Carolina also were 
based mainly on these manuscripts. His writings include 
also his letters written during a tour through the Northern 
and Eastern States, and A View of South Carolina. 

BATTLE WITH THE CHEROKEE INDIANS IN 1 776. 

(From Memoirs of the Revolution in South Carolina.) 

The army now crossed Cannucca Creek, and was proceed- 
ing toward Noewee Creek when tracks of the enemy’s spies 
were discovered about half past ten o’clock a. m., and the 
army was halted and thrown into close order. It then pro- 
ceeded on its left towards a narrow valley, bordering on 
Noewee Creek, and enclosed on each side by lofty moun- 
tains, terminated at the extremity by others equally difficult ; 
and commenced entering the same, for the purpose of cross- 
ing the Appalachean Ridge, which separated the Middle 
Settlements from those in the Vallies. 

These heights were occupied by twelve hundred Indian 
warriors ; nor were they discovered, until the advance guard 
of one hundred men began to mount the height, which ter- 
minated the valley. The army having thus completely fallen 


11— w. 


150 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


into the ambuscade of the enemy, they poured in a heavy fire 
upon its front and flanks; compelling it to recoil, and fall 
into confusion. Great was the pertu-bation which then pre- 
vailed, the cry being, “We shall be cut off”; and while Colonel 
Williamson’s attention was imperiously called to rally his 
men, and charge the enemy, he was at the same time obliged 
to reinforce the baggage guard, on which the subsistence of 
the army depended for provisions, in this mountainous wil- 
derness. 

In this extremity, Lieutenant-Colonel Hammond caused 
detachments to file off, for the purpose of gaining the emi- 
nences above the Indians, and turning their flanks; while 
Lieutenant Hampton with twenty men, advanced upon the 
enemy, passing the main advance guard of one hundred men : 
who, being panic-struck, were rapidly retreating. Hampton, 
however, clambered up the ascent, with a manly presence of 
mind ; which much encouraged all his followers : calling out, 
“ Loaded guns advance — empty guns, fall down and load-'” 
and being joined by thirty men, he charged desperately on 
the foe. The Indians now gave way; and a panic passing 
among them from right to left, the troops rallied and pressed 
them with such energy, as induced a general flight: and the 
army was thereby rescued from a total defeat and massacre. 

Besides this good fortune, they became possessed of so 
many packs of deer skins and baggage ; that they sold among 
the individuals of the army, for £1,200 currency; and which 
sum was equally distributed among the troops. In this 
engagement, the killed of Williamson’s army, were thirteen 
men, and one Catawba Indian; and the wounded were, 
thirty-two men, and two Catawbas. Of the enemy, only four 
were found dead, and their loss would have been more con- 
siderable, if many of them had not been mistaken for the 
friendly Catawbas, who were in front. 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1771-1830) 


151 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1771-1830) 

Stephen Elliott was born at Beaufort, South Carolina, 
November 11, 1771, and died at Charleston, March 28, 1830. 
His father was a planter, and his mother was a grand- 
daughter of John Barnwell. After his graduation at Yale 
in 1791, he devoted himself to the cultivation of his estate, 
at the same time pursuing his literary and scientific studies. 
In 1793 he was elected to the legislature of South Carolina, 
and was a member of that body until his election as president 
of the Bank of the State in 1812, an office which he held until 
his death. His leisure he continued to devote to literature 
and science, especially the study of botany, which he culti- 
vated with much enthusiasm. In 1813 he was honored with 
the presidency of the Literary and Philosophical Society of 
South Carolina, which he was instrumental in founding. For 
some time he was the editor of The Southern Review. In 
1825 he aided in establishing the Medical College of the 
State, and was chosen to fill the chair of Natural History 
and Botany. 

Dr. Elliott’s most important work is The Botany of South 
Carolina and Georgia (Charleston, 1821-1824), in the prepa- 
ration of which he was assisted by Dr. James McBride. He 
left several other works in manuscript, and one of the most 
extensive collections in natural history in the country. 

THE VARIETY OP NATURE. 

(From The Charleston Book, 1845.) 

When we survey this great work of creation, its extent, its 
harmony, the magnificence of its outline, the perfection of its 
minute details, we cannot be surprised that its study should 
have engaged and occupied minds of the highest power, nor 
that such minds should have failed thoroughly to explain 
what infinite wisdom has devised, infinite power executed, 


152 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


and what mortal spirits may be permitted only partially to 
comprehend. Yet let us not despond. In the study of nature 
we tread in the footsteps of wisdom. We listen to a voice, 
which is the same yesterday, today, and forever. And while 
the erring and fluctuating opinions of man, his crimes, his 
follies, his power, pass away and are forgotten, the empire 
of nature is immutable, — to us eternal; the knowledge of 
nature which is once accurate, is forever true — the knowl- 
edge of nature which is once perfect, may be forever useful. 

When we approach to examine the fabric of nature, so 
far as it is subjected to our inspection, we find ourselves 
immediately placed amidst differing, if not contending 
powers. We perceive ourselves inhabitants of a globe, which 
science informs us, is but one of an immense system, sur- 
rounded by other forms, some similar to our own, some 
wandering over the earth, roaming in different elements, or 
confined to one; some, though located in one spot, varying 
in size and aspect with the passing seasons ; or by other sub- 
stances apparently composing portions of the globe itself, 
immovable and changing not. The first impression which 
the mind receives, and that which most attracts the atten- 
tion, is the wide difference that exists between the earth 
itself and the diversified forms which occupy its surface; 
between the silent, still, and joyless repose of matter, and 
the noisy, gay, and animated voice of life. The substances 
which compose that portion of the earth, whether crust, or 
covering, or projecting masses of its mighty frame, which is 
alone submitted to our researches, are passive, immovable, 
insensible; those which inhabit that surface, are, for the 
most part, active, capable of moving from place to place at 
pleasure, and possess great sensibility. The former have 
neither growth nor voluntary action ; they have no mode of 
increase, but by the casual addition of similar particles, 
united by the strong and universal law of attraction. They 
can remain unaltered for indefinite periods of time; they 
have no death, but they perish or rather are destroyed solely 
by the separation of their component particles. The latter 
all increase in size through their own agency, by the con- 
stant addition of particles which they have the power to 
collect and assimilate to their substances by the principle of 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1771-1830) 


153 


life; they perish whenever this addition and assimilation 
cannot be continued; and exist only for limited and indefi- 
nite periods. The former have no organization, are not 
produced by similar and preexistent bodies, but are always 
and necessarily formed by accidental contact of similar 
particles. They have no regular structure, but, under certain 
circumstances, a modified attraction gives to each particle of 
matter a definite position, and generates the regular forms of 
crystallized bodies. The latter are all furnished with organs 
calculated and adapted to perform the functions, to collect, 
absorb, and assimilate those particles which are necessary 
for their existence, and they always proceed from similar and 
preexistent bodies. . 

It is in this vast domain of life, that the order established 
by divine wisdom is so singularly conspicuous. We perceive 
beings almost innumerable, forms endless in their variety, 
creatures infinitely diversified in their habits and in their 
pursuits, all submitting to the guidance and governance of a 
few simple, universal laws. All, however varied may be their 
operations, instinctively labor for the preservation of their 
own lives and the protection of their future progeny. The 
butterfly, which sports in the air, and flies from plant to 
plant on wings as light and brilliant as the flower over which 
it hovers; wherever she herself may feed, yet deposits her 
eggs only on those plants which are the appropriate food of 
her infant caterpillar; the bee and the wasp consume their 
lives in building cells, and in depositing in those cells honey 
or insects, or some other food adapted to the support of that 
offspring they will never know ; fi^h leave the ocean, struggle 
against the currents, ascend the rapids, leap up the falls of 
long rivers to deposit their eggs in places which the parent 
cannot inhabit, but where their young may find security and 
food : — all bend to some paramount impression, all yield an 
unqualified obedience to the laws of their instinctive lives. 
These laws operate with unceasing force; they are perma- 
nent and unchangeable. They have governed the living 
tribes of nature since their existence began; they will con- 
trol them while their races exist. Chance can have no agency 
in principles so stable and so uniform. 

One being alone has been liberated in part from this blind 


154 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


and uncontrollable instinct, has been permitted to compare 
causes and effects, to know good from evil. To one has been 
given the awful responsibility of free-will — and instead of 
the mysterious and unerring impulses of instinct, he has been 
endowed with that reason which must be his pride or his 
reproach. Man himself is, perhaps, the most wonderful 
anomaly in the system of life; and while he avails himself 
of his privilege to examine all that surrounds him, all that 
now exists, and all that has been created, it should be a part 
of the same study cautiously to investigate his own position, 
to ascertain his connection with the past, with the present, 
and with the future. 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1806-1866) 


155 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1806-1866) 

Stephen Elliott, son of the botanist of the same name, 
was born at Beaufort, South Carolina, August 31, 1806, and 
died at Savannah, Georgia, December 21, 1866. After grad- 
uating at Harvard in 1824, he studied law and practised his 
profession at Charleston and Beaufort from 1827 till 1833. 
He then became a candidate for holy orders in the Episcopal 
church, and was ordained a deacon in 1835, a priest in the 
following year, and first Bishop of the Diocese of Georgia 
in 1840. In 1835 he was elected to the professorship of 
Sacred Literature in South Carolina College. After his 
consecration to the bishopric he became rector of St. John’s 
church in Savannah. In 1844 he was chosen provisional 
Bishop of Florida. From 1845 till 1853 he resided at Mont- 
pelier, Georgia, where he founded a seminary for young 
ladies. He expended a large fortune in the effort to improve 
the education of women. He afterwards officiated as rector 
of Christ Church, Savannah, until his death. “A Eulogy of 
Bishop Elliott,” a masterpiece of eloquence and chaste 
English, was delivered by William H. Trescot. 

Bishop Elliott was regarded as one of the most scholarly 
and eloquent preachers of his church. Many of his sermons 
were published in pamphlet form or in magazines. Three 
sermons of historic interest are “The Silver Trumpets of 
the Sanctuary,” delivered to the Pulaski Guards, June 9, 
1861, “God’s Presence with the Confederate States,” 
delivered in Christ Church, June 13, 1861, and “God’s 
Presence with Our Army at Manassas,” in the same church 
on July 28, 1861. 


156 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE BATTLE OF MANASSAS . 1 

(From a sermon entitled “God’s Presence with Our Army at Manassas,” preached 
in Christ Church, Savannah, on Sunday, July 28, 1861.) 

. . . God was evidently there, strengthening the hearts 
of our struggling soldiers, and bringing the haughty down 
to the dust. Could the eyes of our fainting dying children 
have been open that day to see spiritual things, I feel sure 
that they would have seen horses and chariots of fire riding 
upon the storm of battle, and making those that were for 
them more than those that were against them. 

It is but seldom, in the annals of war, that so signal a 
victory has been granted to the arm of valor and the prayer 
of faith. We should have been satisfied with even a doubtful 
field ; more than satisfied with a decided repulse. How loud 
then should be our thanksgiving, how deep our gratitude, 
when God has granted a triumph which must resound 
through the civilized world, and give us a name at once 
among the nations of the earth; when he has permitted us 
totally to demoralize that insolent army ; to drive them back 
in shame and confusion of face upon their strongholds, to 
strip them of their batteries which they boasted to be invin- 
cible, to despoil them of all the stores which they had been 
so painfully gathering for so long a time — to snatch from 
them the prestige of power which their partizan writers had 
given them abroad. And this victory had been given to 
us by God, just at the moment when it was most important 
to us. There are circumstances in all conflicts which make 
certain battles decisive, decisive not because they end the 
struggle, but decisive because of the effects produced upon 
the human mind. Man, with all his greatness, is very infirm 
in his judgments and is apt to measure a cause more by its 
success than by its principles. The one requires to be exam- 
ined and decided about, the other is a thing of sight and 
sense; the one is modified by our feelings and prejudices, the 
other carries man by storm. Besides, it is hard to separate 
success from God’s favor, and the superstitious mind — and 
by far the larger part of the world is superstitious instead of 


x The selection is taken from The Southern Episcopalian (September, 1861), which 
was kindly loaned the author by Prof. Yates Snowden. 


STEPHEN ELLIOTT (1806-1866) 


157 


religious — almost invariably connects the finger of the 
Almighty with man’s triumphs. Such effects it was most 
important should be produced at this crisis of our affairs. 
Hitherto our success had been ascribed to numbers, as at 
Sumter — to treachery, as in Texas — to the inexperience of 
officers, as at Bethel. In this fight we were acknowledged to 
be inferior, both in numbers and in arms. The enemy was 
led by officers of high reputation, under the experienced eye 
of the great captain himself, and there was no room for any 
other fraud than such as stands connected with the legiti- 
mate stratagems of war. The eye of the civilized world was 
upon this battle — of statesmen, to understand how to con- 
duct their negotiations — of bankers, how to regulate their 
loans — of merchants, in what channels to float their com- 
merce — of timid and doubtful men, how to decide their 
politics. Much depended upon it for ourselves. For strange 
to say, imperceptibly to ourselves, our confidence in ourselves 
had been seriously impaired by the imbecile dependence upon 
the North for all the material comforts of life, into which 
we had permitted ourselves to fall. Even while we were 
guiding the Union by our statesmanship, and illustrating it 
by our valor — even while we were giving it its Presidents, 
its Generals, its Admirals — even while we were furnishing 
it by our well-directed and well-managed labor, with its 
great staple of exchange, we were permitting the North to 
take all the credit of advancement to itself, to absorb into 
its great centers of commerce, wealth, literature, science, 
fashion, and to call it all its own, no matter whence it came 
or whose brain or pocket produced it, and to persuade even 
ourselves that we were a helpless race, who were dependent 
upon it for all we were and all we might hope to be. . . . 
We ourselves were getting fast to be persuaded that there 
was no wisdom, no learning, no virtue, no power in the 
South. In this battle, then, we were upon trial; trial not 
only by the world, but trial by and for ourselves. A defeat 
would have visited upon us all this false opinion and false 
character, and it would have required many fields of blood 
to break the chains of prejudice and calumny, and would 
have produced upon ourselves an effect which might have 
hung, for long years, as a crushing weight upon all our 
efforts. 


158 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Honor then to the noble spirits who have achieved this 
victory for us ! Others may die upon the battlefield, but none 
can die so gloriously as they! Others may rise up and be 
baptised for the dead, but none can ever supplant her first 
martyrs in the admiration of their countrymen. Whatever 
illustrious deeds may be done in the future — whatever glo- 
rious victories may inspire hereafter new songs of thanks- 
giving and of praise, none can ever eclipse the fame of these 
deeds and of this victory. They will ever be the first who 
cast themselves before the insulted form of their mother, 
and received in their young hearts the wounds that were 
intended for her; they will ever be the first who gave their 
blood to wash out before the world the stains that had been 
slanderously cast upon her honor and her virtue; they will 
ever be the first who have offered up upon the altar of justice 
and of truth, a hecatomb of victims to soothe her insulted 
spirit. Boys many of them were in years, but lions in heart ! 
They have died young, but they have lived long enough to 
gain an enviable place in history, to entwine their names 
with the independence and glory of the South. But, above 
all, honor to the noble spirit who led them to the battlefield; 
who, having taught them by his virtue, his integrity, his 
unspotted character, how to live, was now about to teach 
them how to die ! Before he left his home, he wrapped the 
Confederate flag about him and said that it should be his 
winding sheet, and all through that bloody day he courted the 
fulfilment of his prophecy. Wherever the storm of war was 
fiercest, there was he; wherever death was busiest in his 
bloody work, there raged he, the very impersonation of a hero. 
Even that cruel tyrant seemed loth to take away so grand 
a soul, and it was not until victory was about to perch upon 
his crest, and snatch him from his grasp, that he struck the 
fatal blow ! And when his gallant boys surrounded him, even 
while his tongue was faltering in death, he uttered words that 
will be as memorable as the battlefield — “I am killed , but 
don’t give up the fight.” Like Nelson, he died in the very arms 
of victory, and his blood, like the dragon’s teeth, which were 
sown by Cadmus, sprang up around men who hurled back 
the cruel invaders ! Mourn for such a life and such a death as 
his was! We cannot mourn, and even his widowed mother 
should say with the noble Ormond, “I would rather have my 
dead son, than any living son in Christendom,” 


WILLIAM ELLIOTT 


159 


WILLIAM ELLIOTT 

William Elliott was born at Beaufort, South Carolina, 
in 1788, and died there in 1863. He sprang from a talented 
family of good old English stock that maintains its dis- 
tinction in South Carolina at the present day, and that has 
furnished to South Carolina letters the eminent Charleston 
botanist, Dr. Stephen Elliott (1771-1830), his uncle, who 
with Hugh S. Legard founded The Southern Review, and 
Bishop Stephen Elliott of Georgia, whose Sermons were 
edited with a beautiful memoir by Thomas M. Hanckel, Esq. 
The late lamented editor of The State, N. G. Gonzales, from 
whom a selection is given in this volume, and his brother 
Ambrose E. Gonzales, author of Silhouettes, and Captain 
William E. Gonzales, the present editor of The State, are 
descendants of the same family on the maternal side. Wil- 
liam Elliott became widely known as an accomplished 
planter, a widely read scholar, and a writer of no mean 
ability. In 1850 he published Fiesco, a Tragedy, and in 1856 
Carolina Sports by Land and Water. The latter became 
exceedingly popular and passed through one English and two 
American editions. There is also extant an address which 
he delivered in 1850 before the St. Paul’s Agricultural 
Society. 


HUNTING THE DEVIL-FISH . 1 

(From Carolina Sports, 1856.) 

At six o’clock on Wednesday, the 16th August, we started 
from Bay Point on our cruise for devil-fish. In my boat, 
manned by six oarsmen and a steersman, I was accompanied 
by my son, a youth under eighteen. In the second boat were 
G. P. E. and W. C., Esqrs., with a crew of four men. The 
armament of the larger consisted, besides the harpoon, of a 


a I am indebted to Mr. Ambrose E. Gonzales for this selection. 


160 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


lance, hatchet, and rifle; that of the smaller boat was two 
bayonets fixed in long staves (the line which was to have 
been rigged to a second harpoon having been swept away, 
with a sharp hook attached, by an overwhelming spring tide 
the night before). We stretched away before a fresh north- 
easter, for the Bay gall on Hilton Head, and then struck sail 
and made all snug for action. Masts, sails, awnings, were 
all stowed away in the bottom of the boat, the anchor with 
its rope, was transferred to the platform for trim,, and that 
nothing should interfere with our running gear. Here a 
large shoal of porpoises came plunging about us; the har- 
poon was poised, but none came within striking distance; 
and after being tantalized by this show of unexpected sport, 
a rifle shot among them sent them booming off, and left us 
leisure to pursue our proper game. 

We rowed slowly along between the Bay gall breaker and 
the shore, on the early ebb, expecting to meet the devil-fish 
on their return from Skull Creek, the scene of their high- 
water gambols. The smaller boat, with outspread sails, 
stretched off and on, traversing the same region, but on dif- 
ferent lines. No fish were seen. We advanced in front of 
Mrs. E.’s avenue, and took another survey, and thus slowly 
extended the cruise to Skull Creek, while our consort 
stretched away as far as Pinckney’s Island. The ebb was 
half spent, and we began to despair. I landed on the beach 
at Hilton Head, yet kept the boat afloat, and two hands on 
the lookout. Before a quarter of an hour had elapsed, 
“There,” cried our lookout man. I followed the direction 
of his hand — it pointed to Skull Creek Channel, and I saw 
the wing of the fish two feet above water. There was no 
mistaking it — it was a devil-fish. One shout summons the 
crew to their posts — the red flag is raised to signal our con- 
sort — the oarsmen spring to their oars — and we dashed 
furiously onward in the direction in which we had seen him. 
Once again before we had accomplished the distance, he 
appeared a moment on the surface. 

The place of harpooner I had not the generosity to yield 
to anyone; so I planted myself on the forecastle, my left leg 
advanced, my right supported by the clete, my harpoon 
poised, and three fathoms of rope lying loose on the thwart 


WILLIAM ELLIOTT 


161 


behind me. The interest of the moment was intense; my 
heart throbbed audibly, and I scarcely breathed, while 
expecting him to emerge from the spot yet rippled by his 
wake. The water was ten fathoms deep, but so turbid that 
you could not see six inches beneath the surface. We had 
small chance of striking him while his visits to the surface 
were so sudden and so brief. “There he is behind us!” 
“Stern all” — and our oarsmen, as before instructed, backed 
with all their might. Before we reached the spot he was 
gone; but soon reappeared on our right, whisking round us 
with great velocity, and with a movement singularly eccen- 
tric. He crossed the bow — his wing only is visible — on which 
side is his body? I hurled down my harpoon with all my 
force. After the lapse of a few seconds, the staff came bound- 
ing up from below, to show me that I had missed. In the 
twinkling of an eye, the fish flung himself on his back, darted 
under the boat, and showed himself at the stern, belly up. 
Tom clapped his unarmed hands with disappointment as the 
fish swept by him where he stood on the platform, so near 
that he might have pierced him with a sword ! And now the 
fish came wantoning about us — taking no note of our 
presence, circling round us, with amazing rapidity, yet show- 
ing nothing but the tip of his wing. We dashed at him when- 
ever he appeared, but he changed position so quickly that we 
were always too late. Suddenly his broad black back was 
lifted above the water directly before our bow. “Forward,” 
the oarsmen bend to the stroke, but before we could gain 
our distance, his tail flies up, and he is plunging downward 
for his depths. I could not resist — I pitched my harpoon 
from the distance of full thirty feet. It went whizzing 
through the air and cleaved the water just beneath the spot 
where the fish had disappeared. My companions in our con- 
sort (who had now approached within fifty yards) observed 
the staff quiver for a second before it disappeared beneath 
the surface of the water. This was unobserved by myself, 
and I was drawing in my line to prepare for a new throw, 
when ho! the line stopped short! “Is it possible? I have 
him — the devil fish is struck!” Out flies the line from the 
bow — a joyful shout bursts from our crew — our consort is 
lashed to our stern — E. and 0. spring aboard — and here we 
go ! driven by this most diabolical of locomotives. 


162 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Thirty fathoms are run out and I venture a turn round the 
stem. The harpoon holds, and he leads gallantly off for 
Middle Bank — the two boats in tow. He pushed dead in the 
eye of a stiff northeaster. His motion is not so rapid as we 
expected, but regular and business-like — reminding one of 
the motion of a canal boat drawn by a team of stout horses. 
On Middle Bank he approached the surface — the rifle is 
caught up, but soon laid aside as useless, for no vulnerable 
part appeared. We then drew upon the line that we might 
force him to the surface and spear him — I soon found that 
was no fun. “Tom, don’t you want to play a devil-fish? 1 
have enough to last me an hour, so here is my place if you 
desire it.” Behold me now reclined on the stern seat, taking 
breath after my pull, and lifting my umbrella to repel the 
heat of the sun. It was very pleasant to see the woods of 
Hilton Head recede, and the hammocks of Paris Island grow 
into distinctness, as we moved along under this novel and 
yet unpatented impelling power! “You will find this melon 
refreshing, friends ! at twelve o’clock, let us take a glass of 
wine to our success. Tom, why don’t you pull him up?” 
Tom held up his hands from which the gloves had been 
stripped clean by the friction of the rope. “We’ll put three 
men to the line and bouse on him.” He comes! George 
seizes the lance, but the devil fish stops ten feet below the 
surface, and can’t be coaxed nearer. George sinks his long 
staff in the direction of the line, feels the fish, and plunges 
the lance into him. It is flung out of his body, and almost 
out of the hand of the spearsman, by the convulsive muscular 
effort of the fish. When drawn up the iron was found bent 
like a reaping hook, and the staff broken in the socket. The 
fish now quickened his speed, and made across Daw’s Channel 
for Paris Bank. 

“Just where we would have you, my old boy — when we get 
you near Bay Point Beach, it will be so convenient to land 
you !” He seems to gather velocity as he goes ; he gets used 
to his harness; points for Station Creek, taking the regular 
steam-boat track. As soon as he gains the deep channel, he 
turns for Bay Point. “Now, then, another trial — a bouse on 
him.” Three fellows are set to the rope — his wing appears — 
C aims his bayonet, and plunges it deep into his body — 


WILLIAM ELLIOTT 


163 


another shudder of the fish, and the bayonet snaps short 
off at the eye — the blade remains buried in his body. “Now, 
for it, George !” His bayonet is driven in, and, at the second 
blow, that is snapped off in the blade. Here we are unweap- 
oned! our rifle and hatchet useless, our other implements 
broken ! “Give him rope, boys, until we haul off and repair 
damages!” At every blow we had dealt him, his power 
seemed to have increased, and he now swept down for Egg 
Bank, with a speed that looked ominous. “Out oars, boys, 
and pull against him.” The tide was now flood — the wind, 
still fresh, had shifted to the east ; six oars were put out and 
pulled lustily against him, yet he carried us rapidly seaward, 
against all these impeding forces. He seemed to suck in fresh 
vigor from the ocean water. George, meanwhile, was 
refitting the broken implements; the lance was fixed in a 
new staff, and secured by a tie of triple drum line; the 
broken blade of the bayonet was fixed on another staff. Egg 
Bank was now but one hundred yards to our left. “Row him 
ashore, boys.” The devil-fish refused, and drew the whole 
concern in the opposite direction. “Force him then to the 
surface.” He popped up unexpectedly under the bow, lifted 
one wing four feet in the air, and bringing it suddenly down, 
swept off every oar from the starboard side of the boat ; they 
were not broken, but wrenched out of the hands of the oars- 
men as by an electric shock. One man was knocked beneath 
the thwarts by the rebound of an oar, and was laid almost 
speechless on the platform — quite hors de combat. Fresh 
hands are brought from the smaller boat ; the fish now leads 
off with thirty fathoms of rope — he steers for Joyner’s Bank. 
Bay Point recedes, Egg Bank disappears, Chaplin’s Island 
lies behind us, and Hilton’s Head again approaches, but it is 
the eastern face of the island that now presents itself. The 
breakers of the Gaskin Bank begin to loom in our horizon, 
and this is done against wind, tide and oar ! A doubt of cap- 
turing the fish began now to steal over our minds, and show 
itself in our faces; our means of assailing so powerful an 
antagonist were too inadequate; nothing remained but to 
bouse on him once more, and endeavor to dispatch him with 
the weapons that remained to us. Three fresh hands took 
the rope, and after giving him a long run to weary him to the 


164 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


uttermost, we succeeded in drawing him to the surface. He 
lay on his back without motion — and we looked on victory as 
certain. The socket of the harpoon appeared sticking out, 
from the belly of the fish : the whole shank was buried in his 
body. We saw neither tail, nor head, nor horns, nor wings — 
nothing but an unsightly white mass, undistinguished by 
member or feature. After a moment’s pause to single out 
some spot for a mortal blow, I plunged the lance, socket and 
all, into the center of this white mass. The negroes who held 
the line of the harpoon took a turn around the gunwale, to 
prevent its slipping. The boat lurched with the swell of the 
sea — and the moment the dead weight of the fish, unsup- 
ported by the water, was felt, the harpoon tore out! An 
instant before, I saw it driven to the socket in the body of the 
fish, the next, it was held up in the air in the hands of the 
negro, bent like a scythe. There was time, if there had been 
presence of mind, to plunge it anew into the fish, which 
floated a second or two on the surface. The moment was 
lost! I will not attempt to describe the bitter disappoint- 
ment that pervaded the party. For a moment, only, a faint 
hope revived; my lance, secured by a cord, was still in his 
body — it might hold him ! “Clear my line, boys !” Alas ! the 
weight of the fish is too much for my tackle — the line flies 
through my hand — is checked — the socket of the lance is 
drawn through the orifice by which it entered — and the fish 
is gone! We spoke not a word, but set our sails, and returned 
to the beach at Bay Point. We felt like mariners, who, after 
a hard conflict, had sunk a gallant adversary at sea — yet 
saved not a single trophy from the wreck to serve as a memo- 
rial of their exploit. 


CAROLINE HOWARD GILMAN 


165 


CAROLINE HOWARD GILMAN 

Caroline Howard Gilman was born at Boston, October 8, 
1794, and died at Charleston in 1888. Her father, Samuel 
Howard, was a shipwright. After his death in 1797, her 
mother moved into the country. There she spent her girl- 
hood, restless, pious, fond of reading, and precocious. She 
wrote verses at ten, and published a poem, “Jephthak’s Rash 
Vow,” when she was sixteen. In 1819 she married the Rev. 
Samuel Gilman, D. D., who shortly afterwards made his 
home in Charleston as pastor of the Unitarian church. He 
died there in 1858. In 1832 Mrs. Gilman founded and edited 
The Rosebud, the first weekly newspaper for children in the 
United States. In this periodical and in its successor, The 
Southern Rose, appeared most of her literary work. That she 
was an industrious writer will appear from the list of her 
publications. 

Mrs. Gilman was the author or editor of the following 
books: The Ladies’ Annual Register for 1838; Ruth Ray- 
mond, or Love’s Progress; The Poetry of Travelling in the 
United States, 1838; Recollections of a New England House- 
keeper; Recollections of a Southern Matron, 1867 ; The 
Rosebud Wreath; Verses of a Lifetime, 1849; Mrs. Gilman’s 
Gift-Book of Stories and Poems for Children, 1850; The 
Humming-Bird ; The Little Wreath ; Oracles from the Poets, 
1852; Sibyl, or New Oracles from the Poets; Oracles for 
Youth, 1854; Stories and Tales for Children; Tales and 
Ballads ; and Letters of Eliza Wilkinson, during the Invasion 
of Charleston, 1839. 1 


*My thanks are due Mrs. Washington Finley, of Charleston, for the material for 
the above sketch. 


12— W 


166 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


TO THE URSULINES. 

(From Simms’s Charleston Book, 1845.) 

Oh, pure and gentle ones, within your ark 
Securely rest ! 

Blue be the sky above — your quiet bark 
By soft winds blest ! 

Still toil in duty, and commune with Heaven, 
World-weaned and free; 

God to his humblest creatures room has given 
And space to be. 


Space for the eagle in the vaulted sky 
To plume his wing — 

Space for the ringdove by her young to lie, 
And softly sing. 


Space for the sunflower, bright with yellow glow, 
To court the sky — 

Space for the violet, where the wild woods grow, 
To live and die. 


Space for the ocean, in its giant might, 
To swell and rave — 

Space for the river, tinged with rosy light, 
Where green banks wave. 


Space for the sun to tread his path in might 
And golden pride — 

Space for the glow-worm, calling, by her light, 
Love to her side. 


Then, pure and gentle ones, within your ark 
Securely rest ! 

Blue be the skies above, and your still bark 
By kind winds blest. 


CAROLINE HOWARD GILMAN 


ANNIE IN THE GRAVEYARD. 
(From Verses of a Life-Time, 1848.) 

She bounded o’er the graves, 
With a buoyant step of mirth ; 
She bounded o’er the graves, 
Where the weeping willow waves, 
Like a creature not of earth. 


Her hair was blown aside, 

And her eyes were glittering bright 
Her hair was blown aside, 

And her little hands spread wide, 
With an innocent delight. 

She spelt the lettered word 
That registers the dead ; 

She spelt the lettered word, 

And her busy thoughts were stirred 
With pleasure as she read. 

She stopped and culled a leaf 
Left fluttering on a rose ; 

She stopped and culled a leaf, 

Sweet monument of grief, 

That in our church-yard grows. 


She culled it with a smile — 
’Twas near her sister’s mound ; 
She culled it with a smile, 

And played with it awhile, 

Then scattered it around. 

I did not chill her heart, 

Nor turn its gush to tears ; 

I did not chill her heart — 

Oh, bitter drops will start 
Full soon in coming years. 


168 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE COLONEL’S CLOTHES. 

(From Recollections of a Southern Matron, 1867.) 

Every man has some peculiar taste or preference, and, I 
think, though papa dressed with great elegance, his was a 
decided love of his old clothes ; his garments, like his friends, 
became dearer to him from their wear and tear in his service, 
and they were deposited successively in his dressing-room, 
though mamma thought them quite unfit for him. He 
averred that he required his old hunting-suits for accidents ; 
his summer jackets and vests, though faded, were the coolest 
in the world; his worm-eaten but warm roquelaire was 
admirable for riding about the fields, etc. In vain mamma 
represented the economy of cutting up some for the boys, 
and giving others to the servants ; he would not consent, nor 
part with articles in which he said he felt at home. Often 
did mamma remonstrate against the dressing-room’s looking 
like a haberdasher’s shop; often did she take down a coat, 
hold it up to the light, and show him perforations that would 
have honored New Orleans or Waterloo; often, while Ohloe 
was flogging the pantaloons, which ungallantly kicked in 
return, did she declare that it was a sin and a shame for her 
master to have such things in the house; still the anti- 
cherubic shapes accumulated on the nails and hooks, and 
were even considered as of sufficient importance to be pre- 
served from the fire at the burning of Roseland. 

Our little circle about this time was animated by a visit 
from a peddler. As soon as he was perceived crossing the 
lawn with a large basket on his arm, and a bundle slung 
across a stick on his shoulder, a stir commenced in the house. 
Mamma assumed an air of importance and responsibility ; I 
felt a pleasurable excitement; Chloe’s and Flora’s eyes 
twinkled with expectation; while, from different quarters, 
the house servants entered, standing with eyes and mouth 
silently open, as the peddler, after depositing his basket and 
deliberately untying his bundle, offered his goods to our 
inspection. He was a stout man, with a dark complexion, 
pitted with the smallpox, and spoke in a foreign accent. I 
confess that I yielded myself to the pleasure of purchasing 
some gewgaws, which I afterwards gave to Flora, while 
mamma looked at the glass and plated ware. 


CAROLINE HOWARD GILMAN 


169 


“Ver sheap,” said the peddler, following her eye, and 
taking up a pair of glass pitchers ; “only two dollars — sheap 
as dirt. If te lady hash any old closhes, it is petter as 
money.” 

Mamma took the pitchers in her hand with an inquisitorial 
air, balanced them, knocked them with her small knuckles — 
they rang as clear as a bell — examined the glass — there was 
not a flaw in it. Chloe went through the same process ; they 
looked significantly at each other, nodded, set the pitchers 
on the slab, and gave a little approbatory cough. 

“They are certainly very cheap,” said mamma. 

“They is, for true, my mistress,” said Chloe, with solem- 
nity, “and more handsomer than Mrs. Whitney’s that she gin 
six dollars for at Charleston.” 

“Chloe,” said mamma, “were not those pantaloons you 
were shaking today quite shrunk and worn out?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” said she; “and they don’t fit nohow. The 
last time the colonel wore them he seemed quite onrestless.” 

“Just step up,” said her mistress, “and bring them down; 
but stay — what did you say was the price of these candle- 
sticks, sir?” 

“Tish only von dollars; but tish more sheaper for te old 
closhes. If te lady will get te old closhes, I will put in te 
pellows and te prush, and it ish more sheaper, too.” 

Chloe and mamma looked at each other, and raised their 
eyebrows. 

“I will just step up and see those pantaloons,” said 
mamma, in a consulting tone. “It will be a mercy to the 
colonel to clear out some of that rubbish. I am confident he 
can never wear the pantaloons again ; they are rubbed in the 
knees, and require seating, and he never will wear seated 
pantaloons. These things are unusually cheap, and the 
colonel told me lately we were in want of a few little matters 
of this sort.” Thus saying, with a significant whisper to me 
to watch the peddler, she disappeared with Chloe. 

They soon returned, Chloe bearing a variety of garments, 
for mamma had taken the important premier pas. The panta- 
loons were first produced. The peddler took them in his 
hand, w T hich flew up like an empty scale, to show how light 
they were ; he held them up to the sun, and a half contempt- 


170 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


uous smile crossed his lips ; then shaking his head, he threw 
them down beside his basket. A drab overcoat was next 
inspected, and was also thrown aside with a doubtful expres- 
sion. 

“Mr. Peddler,” said mamma, in a very soft tone, “you must 
allow me a fair price; these are excellent articles.” 

“Oh, ver fair,” said he, “but te closhes ish not ver goot; 
te closhes-man is not going to give me noting for dish,” and 
he laid a waistcoat on the other two articles. 

Mamma and Chloe had by this time reached the depths of 
the basket, and, with sympathetic exclamations, arranged 
several articles on the slab. 

“You will let me have these pitchers,” said mamma, with a 
look of concentrated resolution, “for that very nice pair of 
pantaloons.” 

The peddler gave a short whistle expressive of contempt, 
shook his head, and said, “Tish not possibles. I will give two 
pisher and von prush for te pantaloon and waistcoat.” 

Mamma and Chloe glanced at each other and at me ; I was 
absorbed in my own bargains, and said, carelessly, that the 
pitchers were perfect beauties. Chloe pushed one pitcher a 
little forward, mamma pushed the other on a parallel line, 
then poised a decanter, and again applied her delicate 
knuckles for the test. That, too, rang out the musical, 
unbroken sound, so dear to the housewife’s ear, and, with a 
pair of plated candlesticks, was deposited on the table. The 
peddler took up the drab overcoat. 

“Te closhesman’s give noting for dish.” 

Mamma looked disconcerted. The expression of her face 
implied the fear that the peddler would not even accept it as 
a gift. Chloe and she held a whispering consultation. At 
this moment Binah came in with little Patsey, who, seeing 
the articles on the slab, pointed with her dimpled fingers, and 
said her only words, 

“Pretty! pretty!” 

At the same moment, Lafayette and Venus, the two little 
novices in furniture-rubbing, exclaimed: 

“Ki ! if dem ting an’t shine tpo much !” 

These opinions made the turning point in mamma’s mind, 
though coming from such insignificant sources. 


CAROLINE HOWARD GILMAN 


171 


“So they are pretty, my darling,” said mamma to Patsey; 
and then, turning to the peddler, she asked him what he 
would give in exchange for the pantaloons, the waitscoat, 
and the coat. 

The peddler set aside two decanters, one pitcher, the plated 
candlesticks, and a hearth-brush. 

“Tish ver goot pargains for te lady,” said he. 

Mamma gained courage. 

“I cannot think of letting you have all these things without 
something more. You must at least throw in that little 
tray,” and she looked at a small scarlet one, worth perhaps a 
quarter of a dollar. 

The peddler hesitated, and held it up so that the morning 
sun shone on its bright hues. 

“I shall not make a bargain without that,” said mamma, 
resolutely. The peddler sighed, and laying it with the 
selected articles, said : 

“Tish ver great pargains for te lady.” 

Mamma smiled triumphantly, and the peddler, tying up his 
bundle and slinging his stick, departed with an air of 
humility. 

Papa’s voice was soon heard, as usual, before he was seen. 

“Rub down Beauty, Mark, and tell Diggory to call out the 
hounds.” 

There was a slight embarrassment in mamma’s manner 
when he entered, mingled with the same quantity of bravado. 
He nodded to her, tapped me on the head with his riding- 
whip, gave Patsey a kiss as she stretched out her arms to him, 
tossed her in the air, and, returning her to her nurse, was 
passing on. 

“Do stop, Colonel,” said Mamma, “and admire my bar- 
gains. See this cut-glass and plate that we have been wishing 
for, to save our best set.” 

“What, this trash?” said he, pausing a moment at the 
table — “blown glass and washed brass! Who has been fool- 
ing you?” 

“Colonel,” said mamma, coloring highly, “how can you — ” 

“I cannot stop a minute, now, wife,” said he. “Jones and 
Ferguson are for a hunt today ! They are waiting at Drake’s 
corner. It looks like falling weather, and my old drab will 
come in well today.” 


172 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


Mamma looked frightened, and he passed on up-stairs. 
He was one of those gentlemen who keep a house alive, as 
the phrase is, whether in merriment or the contrary, and we 
were always prepared to search for his hat, or whip, or slip- 
pers, which he was confident he put in their places, but 
which, by some miracle, were often in opposite directions. 
Our greatest trial, however, was with mamma’s and his 
spectacles, for they had four pairs between them — far-sighted 
and near-sighted. There were, indeed, optical delusions prac- 
tised with them ; for when papa wanted his, they were hidden 
behind some pickle-jar; and when mamma had carefully 
placed hers in her key-basket, they were generally found in 
one of papa’s various pockets ; when a distant object was to 
be seen, he was sure to mount the near-sighted, and cry 
“Pshaw!” and if a splinter was to be taken out, nothing 
could be found but the far-sighted ones, and he said some- 
thing worse: sometimes all four pairs were misssing, and 
such a scampering ensued ! 

We now heard a great outcry up-stairs. “Wife! Chloe! 
Cornelia! come and find my drab coat !” We looked at each 
other in dismay, but papa was not a man for delay, and we 
obeyed his summons. 

“Wife,” said he, beating aside the externals of man that 
hung about his dressing-room, “where is my old drab coat?” 

Mamma swallowed as if a dry artichoke was in her throat, 
as she said, slowly, “Why, Colonel, you know you had not 
worn that coat for months, and as you have another one, and 
a roquelaire, and the coat was full of moth-holes, I exchanged 
it with the peddler for cut-glass and plate.” 

“Cut devils!” said papa, who liked to soften an oath by 
combinations ; “it was worth twenty dollars — yes, more, 
because I felt at home in it. I hate new coats as I do ” 

“But, Colonel,” interrupted mamma, you did not see the 
scarlet tray, and the ” 

“Scarlet nonsense,” shouted papa ; “I believe, if they could, 
women would sell their husbands to those rascally peddlers ;” 

Beauty and the hounds were now pronounced ready. I 
followed papa to the piazza, and heard his wrath rolling off 
as he cantered away. 


NARCISO GENER GONZALES 


173 


NARCISO GENER GONZALES 

Narciso Gener Gonzales was born on Edisto Island, S. C., 
August 5, 1858, and died in Columbia January 19, 1903. His 
father was a Cuban patriot, who married a daughter of 
William Elliott, of Beaufort. Until ten years of age he was 
taught at home, but at fifteen he attended a private school 
in Virginia for a year. This was all the education which he 
received at school, his family having been ruined by the war. 
For about two years he engaged in farming in Virginia and 
South Carolina, and then became a telegraph operator, and 
was in the employ of a railroad for three years. During the 
memorable campaign of 1876 he was correspondent of the 
Charleston Journal of Commerce. After serving first as 
correspondent of the Charleston News and Courier at 
Columbia and at Washington, 1880-1881, and then on the 
editorial staff in 1882, he organized and managed the bureau 
of that paper in Columbia till 1890. In the following year, 
with his brother, Mr. Ambrose E. Gonzales, he founded The 
State, of Columbia, and was its editor-in-chief until his death. 
During the Cuban war, he went, as first lieutenant on the 
staff of General Nunez, to the relief of General Gomez, 
endured six weeks of hardship and privation, and took part 
in the assault on the fortified town of Moron. In 1901 he 
married Miss Lucy Barron, of Manning. 

By his editorial utterances Mr. Gonzales won an enviable 
reputation as a writer, and wielded a remarkable influence in 
behalf of law and order, popular education, purity in politics, 
and the upbuilding of the commonwealth. On January 16, 
1903, he was mortally wounded on the street in Columbia 
by Lieut.-Gov. James H. Tillman in an unprovoked assault 
inspired by a series of editorials which appeared in The State 
during the gubernatorial campaign of the preceding year 
and which reflected on the character of Colonel Tillman. As 
an editor Mr. Gonzales was consistently and courageously 


i 


174 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


the champion of all that was highest and noblest in private 
and civic life, and died a true martyr in the cause of the peo- 
ple of the State which he loved better than life. On Decem- 
ber 12, 1905, a handsome monument was erected in Columbia 
in his honor by the citizens of the State. Rev. Dr. Samuel M. 
Smith delivered on that occasion an oration of great literary 
merit. 

LAUNCHING “THE STATE." 

(Editorial from the first issue of The State, on February 18, 1891.) 

In the dawn of this new day, with the lifting of the shad- 
ows and the coming of the eastern tints of promise, certain 
men, loving their State, reverencing the nobleness of her 
past and watchful of her future, send out to their brethren, 
far and near, this messenger, which, with loyal pride in the 
land of their birth, they name The State. 

A frail and modest bark it may be to bear so proud a name, 
but it is freighted with good intent and high resolve, and 
bears at the fore as symbols of inspiration and hope, the 
noble emblems and brave mottoes of South Carolina. 

Out into an illimitable sea of human thought, and energy, 
and passion, toward a far horizon concealing mysteries of the 
days to come which no eye of man can pierce; out to the 
angry buffetings of storms and the stagnant solitudes of 
calms, the ship of The State fares forth. 

No black flag is at her peak and no stain of piracy is upon 
the argonauts who man her decks. They sail with clean 
hands and honest hearts, intent on good, and the fair wind 
which sends them out of harbor bears with it, and to their 
ears, the “God speed" of thousands who are accounted good 
and true. 

Theirs is a venturesome voyage, no doubt, and one upon 
which timid spirits would not embark ; but it is a mission of 
duty, and honor, and right, and there is no coward in the 
crew. 

So the anchor is up, and the charts are scanned, and with 
fair white sails filled and fearless colors floating, The State, 
prow-pointed by the needle of Truth, clears the harbor of 
Faith, and is in the wide ocean of Endeavor. 

May her helm prove steady and her timbers stout ! 


WILLIAM JOHN GRAYSON 


175 


WILLIAM JOHN GRAYSON 

William John Grayson was born at Beaufort, South 
Carolina, November 10, 1788, and died at Newberry, South 
Carolina, October 4, 1863. After receiving a fine classical 
education he studied law, and practiced at his home in 
Beaufort. He was elected a member of the State legislature, 
and was sent to Congress from 1833 to 1837. Among other 
public positions, he was appointed collector of the port of 
Charleston in 1841 and performed its duties until 1853. In 
politics he was in favor of maintaining the Union, but was a 
strong defender of slavery. 

Grayson’s most important prose work is a Biographical 
Sketch of James Louis Petigru, published in 1866, but his 
most popular work is a once-famous pro-slavery poem, “The 
Hireling and the Slave,” 1854. He was the author also of 
“Chicora,” an Indian legend, 1856, The Country, 1858, and 
a Letter to Governor Seabrook against Disunion of the 
States. He was a frequent contributor to local magazines 
and newspapers. 

THREESCORE YEARS AND SEVEN. 

(From Chicora, and Other Poems, 1856.) 

Life’s voyage, by rock and shoal, is near its close, 

The billow buffeted, the gale endured ; 

Shattered in spars and hull, the vessel goes 
Near the safe port from every storm secured. 

The road grows short ; with frosts or torrid skies, 

By weary steps, hill, plain, and valley pressed, 

Footsore and faint with toil the traveler eyes 
The rising spire that marks the place of rest. 

The night is near at hand ; the shadow steals, 

With the last sunbeam, farther from the trees; 

In mist and chill the waning moon reveals 

Her light, and hollow sounds the evening breeze. 


176 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


The year is almost gone ; the falling leaf, 

Yellow and sere, flies far on every blast ; 

Spring flower, and summer fruit, and autumn sheaf 
Gathered — its bright and beautiful are past. 

Welcome ! the port of refuge safe from storms, 
Welcome! the silent city of repose. 

Welcome! night’s dreams and visionary forms, 

And winter’s waste of purifying snows ! 

Another spring shall bloom ; another day, 

Brighter than hope, shall rise to set no more; 

A fairer region court the traveler’s stay, 

And oceans, wreckless, spread without a shore. 

Launched on their bosom, to each starry sphere, 
Beyond the reach of telescopic eye, 

Farther than Fancy wings her swift career, 

Radiant, like suns, unbodied spirits fly. 

Stripped of their fleshly rags — the mortal chain 
Of sensual appetite and passions vile — 

Freed from the cankered earth, the sting, the stain 
Of base pursuits that dazzle and beguile, 

Companionship with seraphim they hold, 

The endless chain of being they explore, 

Nature’s deep hidden mysteries unfold, 

And, face to face, the Ineffable adore. 

Strong with the vigor of immortal youth, 

Beyond dim Reason’s ken they speed their flight; 

With Intuition’s glance o’ermaster Truth, 

And find in knowing ever new delight. 

Again, with earnest gaze and outstretched arms, 
They meet, oh, thought of joy! the lost on earth, 

Restored, renewed, arrayed in all the charms 
That Love bestows on Heaven’s diviner birth ; 


WILLIAM JOHN GRATSON 


177 


Restored to part no more, no more to know 

The doubt, the fear, the change of mortal love; 

To endless ages, hand in hand, they go, 

Sharing and doubling all their joys above. 

Happiest of hearts on earth ! the calm, the pure, 

Aloof from vulgar joys and vain pursuits, 

That seek through life, unswerving, to secure 
Of nobler being these celestial fruits. 

I ask no scholar’s lore, no poet’s lyre, 

Trophy nor wreath that conquerors display, 

Nor wealth, nor wit, nor eloquence desire, 

Nor matchless wisdom, nor imperial sway. 

But faith — strong faith — that upward to the sky, 

In every ill unshaken, undismayed, 

Looks like the eagle, with unblenching eye, 

Steadfast and bright in sunlight and in shade. 

Let this be mine ! and if the parting day 

Grow dark, the wave seem black with winter’s gloom, 

Fearless, though rough and perilous the way, 

I tread the path that leads me to the tomb. 


THE SLAVE AND HIS PASTIMES. 
(From The Hireling and the Slave, 1854.) 

Companions of his toil, the axe to wield, 

To guide the plough, to reap the teeming field, 
A sable multitude unceasing pour 
From Niger’s banks and Congo’s deadly shore; 
No willing travelers they that widely roam, 
Allured by hope, to seek a happier home. 

But victims to the trader’s thirst for gold, 
Kidnap’d by brothers, and by fathers sold, 

The bondsman born, by native masters reared, 
The captive band, in recent battle spared ; 


178 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


For English merchants bought, across the main, 

In British ships, they go for Britain’s gain ; 

Forced on her subjects in dependent lands, 

By cruel hearts and avaricious hands, 

New tasks they learn, new masters they obey, 

And bow submissive to the white man’s sway. 

But Providence, by his o’erruling will, 

Transmutes to lasting good, the transient ill, 

Makes crime itself the means of mercy prove, 

And avarice minister to works of love; 

In this new home, whate’er the Negro’s fate — 

More blest his life than in his native State ! 

No mummeries dupe, no Fetish charms affright, 

Nor rites obscene diffuse their moral blight; 
Idolatries, more hateful than the grave 
With human sacrifice, no more enslave; 

No savage rule, its hecatomb supplies, 

Of slaves for slaughter, when a master dies: 

In sloth and error sunk for countless years, 

His race has lived, but light at last appears — 

Celestial light — religion undefiled 

Dawns in the heart of Congo’s simple child ; 

Her glorious truths he hears with glad surprise, 

And lifts his views with rapture to the skies ; 

The noblest thoughts that erring mortals know, 
Spring from this source, and in his bosom glow. 

His nature owns the renovating sway, 

And all the old barbarian melts away. 

And now, with sturdy hand and cheerful heart, 

He learns to master every useful art, 

To forge the axe, to mould the rugged share, 

The ship’s brave keel for angry waves prepare; 

The rising wall obeys his plastic will, 

And the loom’s fabric owns his ready skill. 

Not toil alone, the fortune of the Slave ! 

He shares the sport and spoils of wood and wave ; 
Through the dense swamp, where wilder forests rise 


WILLIAM JOHN GRAYSON 


179 


In tangled masses, and shut out the skies, 

Where the dark covert shuns the noontide blaze, 

With agile step, he threads the pathless maze, 

The hollow gum, with searching eye explores, 

Traces the bee to its delicious stores, 

The ringing axe with ceaseless vigour plies, 

And from the hollow scoops the luscious prize. 

When autumn’s parting days grow cold and brief, 
Light hoar frosts sparkle on the fallen leaf, 

The breezeless pines, at rest, no longer sigh, 

And pearl-like clouds hang shining in the sky ; 

When to the homestead flocks and herds incline, 
Sonorous conchs recall the rambling swine, 

And from the field, the low descending sun 
Sends home the Slave, his fleecy harvest done; 

In field and wood he hunts the frequent hare, 

The wild hog chases to the forest lair, 

Entraps the gobbler; with persuasive smoke 
Beguiles the ’possum from the hollow oak; 

On the tall pine tree’s topmost bough espies 
The crafty coon — a more important prize — 

Detects the dodger’s peering eyes that glow 
With fire reflected from the blaze below, 

Hews down the branchless trunk with practised hand, 
And drives the climber from his nodding stand; 
Downward, at last, he springs with crashing sound, 
Where Jet and Pincher seize him on the ground, 

Yields to the hunter the contested spoil, 

And pays, with feast and fur, the evening toil. 

When calm skies glitter with the starry light, 

The boatman tries the fortune of the night, 

Launches the light canoe ; the torch’s beam 
Gleams like a gliding meteor on the stream ; 

Along the shore, the flick’ring fire-light steals, 

Shines through the wave, and all its wealth reveals. 
The spotted trout its mottled side displays, 

Swift shoals of mullet flash beneath the blaze; 

He marks their rippling course ; through cold and wet, 


180 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Lashes the sparkling tide with dext’rous net ; 

With poised harpoon the bass or drum assails, 
And strikes the barb through silv’ry tinted scales. 


Still braver sports are his, when April showers 
Impart new fragrance to the joyous flowers, 

When jasmines, through the woods, to early spring, 
In golden cups, their dewy incense bring, 

White dog-wood blossoms sparkle through the trees, 
The fragrant grape perfumes the morning breeze, 
And with the warmer sun and balmier air, 

The finny myriads to their haunts repair ; 

Such sports are his — with boundless jest and glee, 
Where bold Port Royal spreads its mimic sea ; 

Bright in the North — the length’ning bay and sky 
Blend into one — its shining waters lie, 

And southward breaking on the shelving shore, 

Meet the sea wave and swell its endless roar, 

On either hand gay groups of islands show 
Their charms reflected in the stream below — 

No richer fields, no lovelier isles than these, 

No happier homes, the weary traveler sees! 


ALEXANDER GREGG 


181 


ALEXANDER GREGG 

Alexander Gregg was born at Society Hill, in Darlington 
District, South Carolina, in 1819, and died in Texas in 1893. 
He was ordained in the Protestant Episcopal Church in 1846, 
and in the same year became rector of St. David’s, Cheraw. 
He was made bishop of Texas in 1859, and resided there the 
rest of his life. He was the author of the History of the Old 
Cheraws: containing an account of the aborigines of the 
Pedee, with notices of families and sketches of individuals, 
New York, 1868. It was republished by The State Company 
in Columbia, 1905. He wrote also a History of the Protestant 
Episcopal Church in Texas, and a Life of Bishop Otey. 


A TORY RAID IN SOUTH CAROLINA. 

(From The History of the Old Cheraws, 1868.) 

It was natural that such acts of retaliation on the part of 
the Whigs should excite a desperate spirit of revenge in the 
Tories. In this instance their fury was directed chiefly 
against Colonel Kolb, who had rendered himself most ob- 
noxious by his repeated successes in capturing and punishing 
some of their most active and notable men. And they 
were particularly excited against him, now that his path in 
the late expedition had been marked by the blood of several 
of their favorite Companions. Nothing, as subsequently 
appeared, was to satisfy them short of his life. No sooner 
had he departed from the neighbourhood of Cat Fish, than 
a plan was set on foot to surprise him in the bosom of his 
family, and put him to death. Knowing that his men 
would be disbanded for a short time after his return, they 
determined to follow on without delay, and make sure of 
their prey. 

Accordingly, a company of about fifty Tories collected at 
the place now known as Tart’s Mill, six miles above Marion 
Court House. 


13— W. 


182 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Their leader was Captain Joseph Jones, a native of that 
neighbourhood. No time was to be lost. The more rapid 
their movements, the more certain would be the surprise. 
A few hours’ hard riding would take them to the object of 
their revenge, about thirty-four miles distant. It was 
arranged that they should reach Colonel Kolb’s at a late hour 
of the night. 

Riding up rapidly under cover of darkness, the surprise 
was complete. The high qualities of the gallant Kolb, sud- 
denly roused from sleep, with his loved ones around him, 
and a brutal foe thirsting for blood at his door, were now 
to be put upon their last and severest trial. His family 
consisted of Mrs. Kolb, an only daughter, then a child, 
and two sisters. Two young men, Evans’, were also with 
the family. They had probably accompanied the colonel 
on his late expedition, and were members of his staff. The 
house was well secured, and the inmates doubly armed. Well 
knowing the bloody purpose and desperate character of the 
foe, Colonel Kolb’s first impulse was to sell his life as dearly 
as possible. A determined resistance was accordingly made, 
though in the face of overpowering numbers, and as some 
accounts represent, but incorrectly perhaps, several of the 
Tory party were killed. Not knowing the number within, 
and excited to desperation by the resistance offered, if not 
the havoc made in their ranks, the Tories threatened to 
burn the dwelling with its inmates, if Colonel Kolb did not 
at once surrender. It is said by one authority, the house 
was actually fired. Reduced to the last extremity, and moved 
by the entreaties of the ladies, whose consternation must 
have been great, the colonel agreed to deliver himself up 
as a prisoner of war. The proposition was accepted; and 
he went forth, accompanied by his wife and sisters, and 
when almost in the act of presenting his sword, was treach- 
erously shot on the spot. This deed was perpetrated, without 
the captain’s orders, by Mike Goings, a private in the 
Tory ranks. On some former occasion, Colonel Kolb had 
excited this man’s special hostility, and hence his perfidious 
revenge. Thomas Evans, upon this murderous breach of 
faith, attempted to escape, but was shot, and died soon after 
from the effect of the wound. The dwelling was then plun- 


ALEXANDER GREGG 


183 


dered, and after setting it on fire, the Tories made a hasty 
retreat. 

... At this stage in the history of this calamitous day, 
the thrilling narrative of an eye-witness continues the story. 
Lewis Malone Ayer, the second son of Thomas Ayer, of 
Hunt’s Bluff, then a lad of twelve or thirteen years of age, 
was on a visit with his mother to the family of John Downes, 
a brother-in-law, who lived about three miles above Colonel 
Kolb’s on the river. Mr. Downes having died in the course 
of the night, young Ayer was despatched at an early hour 
in the morning to inform the colonel of the sad event. 

He had proceeded about half way, when he was startled 
by the firing of guns in the direction of Colonel Kolb’s resi- 
dence. Upon going a short distance further, and alarmed 
at the unusual sounds he had heard, he saw an old man, 
William Forniss, riding out from his house to the road. 
They were well acquainted ; and upon coming up, he accosted 
the youth in an excited, hurried manner, saying, “Lewis, 
what firing of guns was that a while ago?” Ayer replied, 
“I do not know;” and just then, upon looking in that direc- 
tion, they saw Colonel Kolb’s residence in flames. Young 
Ayer then related the errand on which he was going, and 
the old man replied, “Come along, let us go and see what is 
to pay there. I will not lead you into danger.” 

On approaching the path which led out from Colonel 
Kolb’s to the main Welch Neck road down the river, they 
saw, from a number of fresh tracks, that a company of horse- 
men had passed rapidly on but a short time before. “Who- 
ever they are,” said Forniss, “they are gone, and we may 
now approach without fear.” Upon riding up, a mournful 
spectacle was presented to their view. The dwelling was 
enveloped in flames, and about to tumble in; and a short 
distance off were Mrs. Kolb and her two sisters-in-law weep- 
ing over their dead. 

They told the sad story of the surprise and resistance, of 
the final capitulation and the closing scene; and how, not 
satisfied with blood, the Tories had rifled the house of every 
valuable, set it on fire, and fled. The bleeding corpse the 
agonized females had been forced to remove beyond the 
reach of the burning timbers. The lapse of nearly eighty 


184 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


years had not dimmed the eye of memory as the once 
youthful Ayer looked back from old age upon the shocking 
scene. His day’s adventures had now just begun. Forniss, 
well aware of the danger to which all those who might come 
in the way of the retreating Tory party would be exposed, 
informed young Ayer that a brother-in-law of his (Ayer’s), 
named M’Gee, was that day to come up to Colonel Kolb’s 
on business, that he must hasten on, get around and ahead of 
the Tories, so as to intercept M’Gee and apprize him of the 
danger, or he would certainly be killed. 

The youthful rider was mounted on a beautiful animal, 
a piebald mare, with flaxen mane and tail, and noted for 
her fleetness. He was confident she could bear him away 
unharmed from any pursuit that might be made, having out- 
stripped the Tories on several previous occasions when they 
had chased him to effect her capture. Excited by the scene 
just witnessed, and alarmed at the prospect of the imminent 
peril to which M’Gee would be exposed, he started at once 
on the hazardous mission, secure, however, in the watchful 
eye above that guided him, and the fleetness of his mare, 
which had often eluded the pursuer before. After proceed- 
ing a short distance, he met an old man, Willis by name, 
small of stature, and a shoemaker by trade. Willis lived 
out in the marshes, and being old and feeble, was allowed 
to occupy ostensibly the position of a neutral. His heart, 
however, was with the Whigs, and, as opportunity offered, 
he rendered faithful service to the cause of liberty. On this 
occasion he rode a shaggy pony, corresponding in age with 
himself, and carried on his shoulder an old-fashioned, long- 
barrelled fowling-piece, which he affectionately called “Old 
Sweet-lips.” Upon meeting young Ayer, he asked what all 
that shooting was he had heard above. In a few words the 
story was related to him, and that of the errand upon which 
the youth had started. “Very well,” said he, “hurry on; 
you will see two of the red-coats lying in the road ahead of 
you.” His words proved true, for a little further on the 
youth found two British soldiers dead in the road, who had 
bled profusely. They had paid the penalty of an untimely 
plundering sally with their lives. 

From the spot where the soldiers had fallen, young 


ALEXANDER GREGG 


185 


Ayer pursued his way, the road running along a ridge flanked 
on either side by swamp or boggy marsh land. He hastened 
on, for there was no time to be lost. A few miles below, 
at a point where an abrupt turn was made by the road to 
avoid the marsh, it reached the house of a man named 
M’Daniel. Riding at a rapid pace, for he expected not to 
overtake the Tories so soon, he was almost upon them before 
he could rein his mare in. Some of the party were on the 
piazza, but most of them within the house. He was imme- 
diately discovered and pursued with a shout, the Tories 
halloing at the top of their voices to the flying youth to stop. 
Several shots were fired at him, but without effect, having 
been aimed high, as he supposed, not to kill his mare. 

After wheeling round, young Ayer struck out of the main 
road into a narrow cow-path, which crossed a large and very 
boggy marsh. 

It was so narrow and obscure that his pursuers did not 
observe it, though he knew, being familiar with the locality, 
that it was the only track by which a safe crossing could 
be effected. Seeing him dash through, they attempted to 
do the same, and by going directly across, hoped to get 
ahead of him, as the path led around by an angle. But, 
in this they were sadly disappointed. For as he reached 
the opposite ridge, and looked back, lying close on the off- 
side of his mare, the result was what he anticipated. The 
whole party were in full view, riders and horses floundering 
in the mud, in hopeless confusion. The chase was at an end, 
the despicable pursuers deeply chagrined to have been thus 
out-witted by a boy, and glad to get back to the quarters 
they had left. 

After returning from this bloody expedition, the Tories 
dispersed, taking refuge, doubtless, for a time in their hiding 
places, knowing full well the vengeance with which they 
would be visited by the Whigs. Thus ended for the region 
of the Upper Pedee, the 28th of April, 1781, one of the saddest 
days in its history. 


186 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THOMAS SMITH GRIMKE 

Thomas Smith GrimkiS was born at Charleston, South 
Carolina, in 1786, and died of cholera near Columbus, Ohio, 
in 1834. He descended from a Huguenot family that was 
exiled from France by the revocation of the edict of Nantes. 
He gained considerable reputation as a politician, lawyer 
and scholar, but is best known as an advocate of peace, Sun- 
day-schools, and the Bible. He was a man of deep feeling, 
earnest purpose, and pure life. Some of his views were 
radical and peculiar. He proposed sweeping reforms in 
English orthography, and disapproved of the classics and 
of pure mathematics in any scheme of general education. 
The extract below is from an address delivered at a Sunday- 
school celebration. 

LA FAYETTE AND ROBERT RAIKES. 

(From Speeches of Thomas S. Grimke, 1831.) 

It is but a few years since we beheld the most singular 
and memorable pageant in the annals of time. It was a 
pageant more sublime and affecting than the progress of 
Elizabeth through England after the defeat of the Armada; 
than the return of Francis I from a Spanish prison to his 
own beautiful France; than the daring and rapid march 
of the conqueror at Austerlitz from Frejus to Paris. It 
was a pageant, indeed, rivaled only in the elements of the 
grand and the pathetic, by the journey of our own Wash- 
ington through the different States. Need I say that I 
allude to the visit of La Fayette to America? 

But La Fayette returned to the land of the dead, rather 
than of the living. How many who had fought with him 
in the war of ’76, had died in arms, and lay buried in the 
grave of the soldier or the sailor! How many who had 
survived the perils of battle, on the land and the ocean, had 
expired on the death-bed of peace, in the arms of mother, 


THOMAS SMITH GRIMKfi 


187 


sister, daughter, wife ! Those who survived to celebrate with 
him in the jubilee of 1825, were stricken in years and hoary- 
headed; many of them infirm in health; many the victims 
of poverty, or misfortune, or affliction. And, how venerable 
that patriotic company; how sublime their gathering 
through all the land ; how joyful their welcome, how affect- 
ing their farewell to that beloved stranger ! 

But the pageant has fled, and the very materials that 
gave it such depths of interest are rapidly perishing: and 
a humble, perhaps a nameless grave, shall hold the last 
soldier of the Revolution. And shall they ever meet again? 
Shall the patriots and soldiers of ’76, the “Immortal Band,” 
as history styles them, meet again in the amaranthine bowers 
of spotless purity, of perfect bliss, of eternal glory? Shall 
theirs be the Christian’s heaven, the kingdom of the Re- 
deemer? The heathen points to his fabulous Elysium as the 
paradise of the soldier and the sage. But the Christian bows 
down with tears and sighs, for he knows that not many of 
the patriots, and statesmen, and warriors of Christian lands 
are the disciples of Jesus. 

But we turn from La Fayette, the favorite of the old and 
the new world, to the peaceful benevolence, the unambitious 
achievements of Robert Raikes. Let us imagine him to have 
been still alive, and to have visited our land, to celebrate this 
day with us. No national ships would have been offered to 
bear him, a nation’s guest, in the pride of the star-spangled 
banner, from the bright shores of the rising, to the brighter 
shores of the setting sun. No cannon would have hailed him 
in the stern language of the battle-field, the fortunate cham- 
pion of Freedom, in Europe and America. No martial music 
would have welcomed him in notes of rapture, as they rolled 
along the Atlantic, and echoed through the valley of the 
Mississippi. No military procession would have heralded 
his way through crowded streets, thick-set with the banner 
and the plume, the glittering saber and the polished bayonet. 
No cities would have called forth beauty and fashion, wealth 
and rank, to honor him in the ball-room and theater. No 
States would have escorted him from boundary to boundary, 
nor have sent their chief magistrate to do him homage. No 
national liberality would have allotted to him a nobleman’s 


188 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


domain and princely treasure. No national gratitude would 
have hailed him in the capitol itself, the nation’s guest, 
because the nation’s benefactor; and have consecrated a 
battleship, in memory of his wounds and his gallantry. 

Not such would have been the reception of Robert Raikes, 
in the land of the Pilgrims and of Penn, of the Catholic, the 
Cavalier, and the Huguenot. And who does not rejoice that 
it would be impossible thus to welcome this primitive Chris- 
tian, the founder of Sunday-schools? His heralds would be 
the preachers of the Gospel, and the eminent in piety, benevo- 
lence, and zeal. His procession would number in its ranks 
the messengers of the Cross and the disciples of the Savior, 
Sunday-school teachers and white-robed scholars. The tem- 
ples of the Most High would be the scenes of his triumph. 
Homage and gratitude to him, would be anthems of praise 
and thanksgiving to God. 

Parents would honor him as more than a brother; chil- 
dren would reverence him as more than a father. The falter- 
ing words of age, the firm and sober voice of manhood, the 
silvery notes of youth, would bless him as a Christian patron. 
The wise and the good would acknowledge him everywhere 
as a national benefactor, as a patriot even to a land of 
strangers. He would have come a messenger of peace to a 
land of peace. No images of camps, and sieges, and battles; 
no agonies of the dying and the wounded; no shouts of vic- 
tory, or processions of triumph, would mingle with the 
recollections of the multitude who welcomed him. They 
would mourn over no common dangers, trials, and calami- 
ties ; for the road of duty has been to them the path of pleas- 
antness, the way of peace. Their memory of the past would 
be rich in gratitude to God, and love to man; their enjoy- 
ment of the present would be a prelude to heavenly bliss; 
their prospects of the future, bright and glorious as faith and 
hope. . 

Such was the reception of La Fayette, the warrior; such 
would be that of Robert Raikes, the Howard of the Christian 
church. And which is the nobler benefactor, patriot, and 
philanthropist? Mankind may admire and extol La Fayette 
more than the founder of the Sunday-schools; but religion, 
philanthropy, and enlightened common sense must ever 


THOMAS SMITH GRIMICfC 


189 


esteem Robert Raikes the superior of La Fayette. His are 
the virtues, the services, the sacrifices of a more enduring 
and exalted order of being. His counsels and triumphs be- 
long less to time than to eternity. 

The fame of La Fayette is of this world; the glory of 
Robert Raikes is of the Redeemer’s everlasting kingdom. 
La Fayette lived chiefly for his own age, and chiefly for his 
and our country; but Robert Raikes has lived for all ages 
and all countries. Perhaps the historian and biographer 
may never interweave his name in the tapestry of national 
or individual renown. But the records of every single church 
honor him as a patron ; the records of the universal Church, 
on earth as in heaven, bless him as a benefactor. 

The time may come when the name of La Fayette will 
be forgotten; or when the star of his fame, no longer glit- 
tering in the zenith, shall be seen, pale and glimmering, on 
the verge of the horizon. But the name of Robert Raikes 
shall never be forgotten ; and the lambent flame of his glory 
is that eternal fire which rushed down from heaven to devour 
the sacrifice of Elijah. Let mortals then admire and imitate 
La Fayette more than Robert Raikes. But the just made 
perfect, and the ministering spirits around the throne of 
God, have welcomed him as a fellow-servant of the same 
Lord ; as a fellow-laborer in the same glorious cause of man’s 
redemption; as a co-heir of the same precious promises and 
eternal rewards. 


190 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


LAURA GWYN 

Laura Gwyn was born in 1833. She resided at one time 
in Greenville, South Carolina, where her husband was pastor 
of the Methodist Episcopal Church. In 1860 Mrs. Gwyn pub- 
lished a volume entitled Miscellaneous Poems, which 
included “The Valley Flower,” “Human Life,” “The Voyage 
of Life,” “Exploits of a Farie,” “Time: a Sketch,” “The 
Stars,” “The Siren,” “I Pledged a Goblet, Sweet, to Thee,” 
“The Witch of Table Hock,” Death in a Ball Room,” “Au- 
tumn,” “Days Agone,” etc. 


THE VALLEY FLOWER. 

(From Miscellaneous Poems, 1860.) 

There is a valley, in whose bosom sweet 
The loveliest brooklet runs with silver feet, 
Making soft music as it trips along, 

Filling the air with its delicious song. 

Here, o’er an old oak’s rugged roots it leaps ; 
Here, in a little moss-rimmed basin sleeps, 
Reflecting long fern leaves and flowers fair, 

That spring uncultured and unnoticed here. 

A race of lovely lilies, too, have made 
Their home beneath the valley’s pleasant shade; 
Springing from out their beds of leafy beryl, 
Their snowy beauties proudly they unfurl. 

And ’neath the bowery green a bevy, too, 

Of rarest violets ope their eyes of blue ; 

And a wild rose, in richest summer bloom, 

Fills all the dim air with its sweet perfume. 


LATJKA GWYN 


191 


But, ah ! one cometh to this valley fair, 

Whose feet are lighter than the brooklets are ; 

Whose voice is softer, in its watery flow, 

Than these light wavelets, singing as they go ! 

O, there is one, unto whose queenly brow 
The proud white lilies in their beauty bow ! 

And these meek violets catch from her dear eyes 
A softer blue than fills the summer skies ! 

O, there is one who walks this happy vale, 

To whose bright cheek the blooming rose is pale ! 

She comes ! the clustering vines her white hands part ; 
Hale queen of this sweet vale and my rich heart! 


192 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


JAMES HENRY HAMMOND 

James Henry Hammond was born in Newberry District, 
South Carolina, in 1807, and died in 1864. He was promi- 
nent as an advocate of nullification in 1832, and was elected 
to Congress in 1835. He became Governor of South Carolina 
in 1842, and United States Senator in 1857. So logical and 
convincing was he in debate and so profound was his mastery 
of public questions, that he was regarded by many as a 
fitting successor of the great Calhoun in the championship 
of Southern policies and principles. 

SLAVERY IN THE LIGHT OF POLITICAL SCIENCE. 

(From Cotton is King.) 

You next complain that our slaves are kept in bondage by 
the “law of force.” In what country or condition of mankind 
do you see human affairs regulated merely by the law of 
love? Unless I am greatly mistaken, you will, if you look 
over the world, find nearly all certain and permanent rights, 
civil, social, and I may even add religious, resting on and 
ultimately secured by the “law of force.” The power of 
majorities — of aristocracies — of kings — nay of priests, for 
the most part, and of property, resolves itself at last into 
“force,” and could not otherwise be long maintained. Thus, 
in every turn of your argument against our system of slavery, 
you advance, whether conscious of it or not, radical and 
revolutionary doctrines calculated to change the whole face 
of the world, to overthrow all government, disorganize 
society, and reduce man to a state of nature — red with blood, 
and shrouded once more in barbaric ignorance. But you 
greatly err, if you suppose, because we rely on force in the 
last resort to maintain our supremacy over our slaves, that 
ours is a stern and unfeeling domination, at all to be com- 
pared in hardhearted severity to that exercised, not over the 
mere laborer only, but by the higher over each lower order, 
wherever the British sway is acknowledged. You say, that 


JAMES HENEY HAMMOND 


193 


if those you address were “to spend one day in the South, 
they would return home with impressions against slavery 
never to be erased.” But the fact is universally the reverse. 
I have known numerous instances, and I never knew a single 
one, where there was no other cause of offense, and no object 
to promote by falsehood, that individuals from the non-slave- 
holding States did not, after residing among us long enough 
to understand the subject, “return home” to defend our 
slavery. It is matter of regret that you have never tried the 
experiment yourself. I do not doubt you would have been 
converted, for I give you credit for an honest though per- 
verted mind. You would have seen how weak and futile is 
all abstract reasoning about this matter, and that, as a build- 
ing may not be less elegant in its proportions, or tasteful in 
its ornaments, or virtuous in its uses, for being based upon 
granite, so a system of human government, though founded 
on force, may develop and cultivate the tenderest and purest 
sentiments of the human heart. And our patriarchal scheme 
of domestic servitude is indeed well calculated to awaken 
the higher and finer feelings of our nature. It is not wanting 
in its enthusiasm and its poetry. The relations of the most 
beloved and honored chief, and the most faithful and ad- 
miring subjects, which, from the time of Homer, have been 
the theme of song, are frigid and unfelt compared with those 
existing between the master and his slaves — who served his 
father, and rocked his cradle, or have been born in his house- 
hold, and look forward to serve his children — who have been 
through life the props of his fortune, and the objects of his 
care — who have partaken of his griefs, and looked to him 
for comfort in their own — whose sickness he has so fre- 
quently watched over and relieved — whose holidays he has 
so often made joyous by his bounties and his presence; for 
whose welfare, when absent, his anxious solicitude never 
ceases, and whose hearty and affectionate greetings never 
fail to welcome him home. In this cold, calculating, ambi- 
tious world of ours, there are few ties more heartfelt, or of 
more benignant influence, than those which mutually bind 
the master and the slave, under our ancient system, handed 
down from the father of Israel. The unholy purpose of the 
abolitionist is, to destroy by defiling it; to infuse into it the 


194 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


gall and bitterness which rankle in their own envenomed 
bosoms ; to poison the minds of the master and servant ; turn 
love to hatred, array “force” against force and hurl all 

“With hideous ruin and combustion, down 
To bottomless perdition.” 

You think it a great “crime” that we do not pay our slaves 
“wages,” and on this account pronounce us “robbers.” In my 
former letter, I showed that the labor of our slaves was not 
without great cost to us, and that in fact they themselves 
receive more in return for it than your hirelings do for 
theirs. For what purpose do men labor, but to support them- 
selves and their families in what comfort they are able? 
The efforts of mere physical labor seldom suffice to provide 
more than a livelihood. And it is a well-known and shocking 
fact that while a few operatives in Great Britain succeed 
in securing a comfortable living, the greater part drag out 
a miserable existence, and sink at last under absolute want. 
Of what avail is it that you go through the form of paying 
them a pittance of what you call “wages,” when you do not, 
in return for their services, allow them what alone they 
ask — and have a just right to demand — enough to feed, 
clothe, and lodge them, in health and sickness, with reason- 
able comfort? Though we do not give “wages” in money, 
we do this for our slaves, and they are therefore better 
rewarded than yours. It is the prevailing vice and error of 
the age, and one from which the abolitionists, with all their 
saintly pretentions, are far from being free, to bring every- 
thing to the standard of money. You make gold and silver 
the great test of happiness. The American slave must be 
wretched indeed, because he is not compensated for his 
services in cash. It is altogether praiseworthy to pay the 
laborer a shilling a day, and let him starve on it. To supply 
all his wants abundantly, and at all times, yet withhold 
from him money, is among “the most reprobated crimes.” 
The fact cannot be denied, that the mere laborer is now, and 
always has been, everywhere that barbarism has ceased, 
enslaved. Among the innovations of modern times, follow- 
ing “the decay of villeinage,” has been the creation of a new 
system of slavery. The primitive and patriarchal, which 


JAMES HENRY HAMMOND 


195 


may also be called the sacred and natural system, in which 
the laborer is under the personal control of a fellow-being 
endowed with the sentiments and sympathies of humanity, 
exists among us. It has been almost everywhere else super- 
seded by the modern artificial money-power system, in which 
man — his thews and sinews, his hopes and affections, his very 
being, are all subjected to the dominion of Capital — a mon- 
ster without a heart — cold, stern, arithmetical — sticking to 
the bond — taking even the “pound of flesh.” — working up 
human life with engines, and retailing it out by weight and 
measure. His name of old was “Mammon, the least erected 
spirit that fell from heaven.” And it is to extend his empire 
that you and your deluded coadjutors dedicate your lives. 
You are stirring up mankind to overthrow our heaven- 
ordained system of servitude, surrounded by innumerable 
checks, designed and planted deep in the human heart by God 
and nature, to substitute the absolute rule of this “spirit 
reprobate,” whose proper place was hell. 

You charge us with looking on our slaves “as chattels or 
brutes,” and enter into a somewhat elaborate argument to 
prove that they have “human forms,” “talk,” and even 
“think.” Now, the fact is, that however much you may 
indulge in this strain for effect, it is the abolitionists, and not 
the slaveholders, who, practically, and in the most important 
point of view, regard our slaves as “chattels or brutes.” In 
your calculations of the consequences of emancipation, you 
pass over entirely those which must prove most serious, and 
which arise from the fact of their being persons. 

You appear to think that we might abstain from the use 
of them as readily as if they were machines to be laid aside, 
or cattle that might be turned out to find pasturage for 
themselves. I have heretofore glanced at some of the results 
that would follow from breaking the bonds of so many 
human beings, now peacefully and happily linked into our 
social system. The tragic horrors, the decay and ruin that 
would for years, perhaps for ages, brood over our land, if it 
could be accomplished, I will not attempt to portray. But 
do you fancy the blight would, in such an event, come to us 
alone? The diminution of the sugar crop of the West Indies 
affected Great Britain only, and there chiefly the poor. It 


196 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


was a matter of no moment to capital that labor should have 
one comfort less. Yet it has forced a reduction of the British 
duty on sugar. Who can estimate the consequences that 
must follow the annihilation of the cotton crop of the slave- 
holding States? I do not undervalue the importance of other 
articles of commerce, but no calamity could befall the world 
at all comparable to the sudden loss of two millions of bales 
of cotton annually. From the deserts of Africa to the Sibe- 
rian wilds — from Greenland to the Chinese wall — there is 
not a spot of earth but would feel the sensation. The facto- 
ries of Europe would fall with a concussion that would shake 
down castles, palaces, and even thrones; while the “purse- 
proud, elbowing insolence” of our Northern monopolist 
would soon disappear forever under the smooth speech of 
the peddler, scourging our frontiers for a livelihood, or the 
bluff vulgarity of the South Sea whaler, following the har- 
poon amid storms and shoals. Doubtless the abolitionists 
think we could grow cotton without slaves, or that at worst 
the reduction of the crop would be moderate and temporary. 
Such gross delusions show how profoundly ignorant they are 
of our condition here. 


WADE HAMPTON 


197 


WADE HAMPTON 

Wade Hampton was born at Charleston, March 28, 1818, 
and died at Columbia, April 11, 1902. He was the third to 
bear the distinguished name. He graduated at South Carolina 
College in 1836, but never received a military education. 
Having served for a short time as a member of the Legisla- 
ture, he engaged in planting in South Carolina and in Mis- 
sissippi, where he resided during the winter months. His 
cotton crop in 1856 was estimated at 5,000 bales. When the 
war opened he entered the army first as a private, but soon 
raised and commanded the Hampton Legion. He was pro- 
moted for conspicuous ability through the various grades to 
that of Lieutenant-General. He was wounded at the battles 
of First Manassas and Seven Pines. In 1865 he nobly 
accepted the consequences of defeat and retired to his planta- 
tion. He led the campaign of 1876, the most memorable in 
the history of the State, and was elected Governor over D. H. 
Chamberlain by a majority of 1,135. In 1878 he was 
reelected Governor, and soon afterwards United States Sena- 
tor; was returned to the Senate in 1884, but was defeated 
in 1890. He was appointed United States Railroad Commis- 
sioner in 1893. In 1878 he lost a leg by an accident while 
hunting. His last public appearance was at the Centennial 
Celebration of South Carolina College. On November 20, 
1906, an equestrian statue of Hampton by Ruckstuhl was 
unveiled in Columbia with imposing exercises, the oration 
being delivered by Gen. M. C. Butler. 1 

While not in any sense a literary man, General Hampton 
wrote many able State papers and delivered a large number 
of speeches in the Senate, and on great public occasions, 
which, on account of their noble thought and manly diction, 
deserve a place in the literature of the State. Technical 
criticism of so great a man seems almost impertinent. In 
spite of his lack of rhetorical training, and his distaste for 

Mien. Butler was born on March 8, 1836, and died on April 14, 1909. 


14— W. 


198 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


writing, whenever he gave expression to his thoughts at 
some great public crisis, he created literature that for its 
deep feeling, its noble words and high seriousness deserves to 
live as long as his splendid deeds. Although addressed to the 
reason rather than to the aesthetic faculty, they will always 
inspire the loftiest thoughts and emotions in the reader. 

INAUGURAL ADDRESS IN 1876 1 
(From Reynolds’s History of Reconstruction in South Carolina, 1906.) 

Gentlemen of the Senate and House of Representatives : 

It is with feelings of the profoundest solicitude that I 
assume the arduous duties and grave responsibilities of the 
high position to which the people of South Caroling, have 
called me. It is amid events unprecedented in this republic 
that I take the chair as Chief Magistrate of this State. After 
years of misrule, corruption and anarchy, brought upon us 
by venal and unprincipled political adventurers, the honest 
people of the State, without regard to party or race, with 
one voice demanded reform and with one purpose devoted 
themselves earnestly and solemnly to this end. With a lofty 
patriotism never surpassed, with a patience never equalled, 
with a courage never excelled, and with a sublime sense of 
duty which finds scarcely a parallel in the history of the 
world, they subordinated every personal feeling to the public 
weal and consecrated themselves to the sacred work of 
redeeming their prostrate State. To the accomplishment of 
this task they dedicated themselves with unfaltering confi- 
dence and with unshaken faith, trusting alone to the justice 
of their cause and commending that cause reverently to the 
protection of the Almighty. 

When the corrupt party which for eight years has held 
sway in this State, bringing its civilization into disgrace 
and making its government a public scandal, saw that the 
demand for reform found a responsive echo in the popular 
heart, and that the verdict of the people would be pronounced 


^This address was delivered by Governor Hampton from a platform in front of 
Carolina Hall, in Columbia, December 16, 1876. It is reprinted here by kind per- 
mission of Mr. John S. Reynolds. 


WADE HAMPTON 


199 


against those who had degraded the State, they appealed for 
Federal intervention, and by a libel on our whole people, 
as false as it was base, called in the soldiery of the United 
States army to act as supervisors of our election. In a time 
of profound peace, when no legal officer had been resisted 
in the proper discharge of his functions, we have witnessed 
a spectacle abhorrent to every patriotic heart and fatal to 
republican institutions — Federal troops used to promote the 
success of a political party. Undismayed though shocked by 
this gross violation of the Constitution of the country, our 
people with a determination that no force could subdue, no 
fraud could defeat, kept steadily and peacefully in the path 
of duty, resolved to assert their rights as American freemen 
at the ballot box — that great court of final resort, before 
which must be tried the grave questions of the supremacy of 
the Constitution and the stability of our institutions. What 
the verdict of the people of South Carolina has been, you 
need not be told. It has reverberated throughout the State, 
and its echoes come back to us from every land where liberty 
is venerated, declaring in tones that cannot be mistaken that, 
standing on the Constitution of our country, we propose to 
obey its laws, to preserve, as far as in us lies, its peace and 
honor, and to carry out in good faith every pledge made by 
us for reform and honest government. We intend to prove 
to the world the sincerity of our declaration that the sole 
motive which inspired the grand contest we have so suc- 
cessfully made was not the paltry ambition for party suprem- 
acy, but the sacred hope of redeeming our State. It was this 
hope which led our people to a victory which was grander 
in its proportions, greater in its success, nobler in its achieve- 
ment and brighter in its promise of prosperity than any other 
ever waged on this continent. 

But it was thought to wrest the fruits of this magnificent 
victory from the hands that won it, by a gigantic fraud and 
a base conspiracy. When the members-elect of the General 
Assembly repaired to the capitol to take the seats to which 
the people of South Carolina had assigned them, armed 
soldiers of the Federal government confronted them, and 
their certificates of election were examined and passed upon 
by a corporal of the guard. A spectacle so humiliating to a 


200 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


free people, and so fatal to republican institutions, had never 
been presented in America. It could not have been witnessed 
even here, where civil liberty has for years been but a 
mockery, had not the ruthless hand of military power struck 
down the most sacred guaranties of the Constitution, for 
the tread of the armed soldier, as he made his rounds through 
the halls of legislation, was over the prostrate form of Lib- 
erty herself. It was amid these ominous, these apalling 
scenes that the members of the General Assembly were 
called on to assume their duties as the representatives of a 
free State, and that State one of the original thirteen that 
won our independence and framed our Constitution. That 
the natural, patriotic indignation of our people did not find 
expression in violence is creditable in the highest degree to 
them, and this was due in a large measure to the statesman- 
like and dignified conduct of those members of the General 
Assembly who had been made the victims of this gross out- 
rage on their persons and this daring conspiracy against 
their constitutional rights. 

Debarred the free exercise of their rights by the presence 
of an armed force, a legal quorum of the lower house, after 
placing on record a noble protest, quietly withdrew from the 
capitol and proceeded to organize that branch of the General 
Assembly. Not one form of our law, not one requirement of 
the Constitution was wanting to give force and legality to 
this organization, and that its authority has not been fully 
recognized is due solely to the same armed usurpation which 
has subordinated the civil to the military power throughout 
this whole contest. 

Of the disgraceful, dangerous and revolutionary proceed- 
ings resorted to by the defeated party after the organization 
of the lower house it is needless for me to speak. You have 
been the witnesses and the victims of these, and the civilized 
world has looked on with amazement, disgust and horror; 
you have seen a minority of that house usurp the powers of 
the whole body; you have seen the majority expelled from 
their hall by threats of force; you have seen persons having 
no shadow of a claim as members admitted to seats as repre- 
sentatives by the votes of men who themselves were acting 
in direct violation of the Constitution ; and you have seen the 


WADE HAMPTON 


201 


last crowning act of infamy by which a candidate for Gov- 
ernor, defeated by the popular vote, had himself declared 
elected by his co-conspirators. 

1 make no comment on these flagrant outrages and wrongs ; 
it pertains to the General Assembly to take such action in 
regard to them as that honorable body may deem proper. 
But it is due to my position as the chief magistrate of this 
commonwealth to place on record my solemn and indignant 
protest against acts which I consider subversive of civil 
liberty and destructive of our form of government. These 
are questions which concern not us alone, but the people of 
the United States ; for if acts so unauthorized and so uncon- 
stitutional are allowed to pass without rebuke, popular gov- 
ernment as established by the Constitution will give place 
to military despotism. Our duty, the duty of every patriot, 
is to demand a strict construction of the Constitution and a 
rigid adherence to its provisions. We can only thus preserve 
our liberties and our government. 

A great task is before the Conservative party of this State. 
They entered on this contest with a platform so broad, so 
strong, so liberal, that every honest citizen could stand upon 
it. They recognized and accepted the amendments of the 
Constitution in good faith ; they pledged themselves to work 
reform and to establish good government; they promised to 
keep up an efficient system of public education; and they 
declared solemnly that all citizens of South Carolina of 
both races and of both parties, should be regarded as equals 
in the eye of the law; all to be protected in the enjoyment 
of every political right now possessed by them. 

To the faithful observance of these pledges we stand com- 
mitted, and I, as the representative of the Conservative 
party, hold myself bound by every dictate of honor and of 
good faith to use every effort to have these pledges redeemed 
fully and honestly. It is due not only to ourselves but to 
the colored people of the State that wise, just and liberal 
measures should prevail in our legislation. We owe much 
of our late success to these colored voters, who were brave 
enough to rise above the prejudice of race and honest enough 
to throw off the shackles of party in their determination to 
save the State. To those who, misled by their fears, their 


202 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ignorance, or by evil counseling, turned a deaf ear to our 
appeals, we should not be vindictive but magnanimous. Let 
us show to all of them that the true interests of both races 
can best be secured by cultivating peace and promoting 
prosperity among all classes of our fellow-citizens. I rely con- 
fidently on the support of the members of the General Assem- 
bly in my efforts to attain these laudable ends, and I trust 
that all branches of the government will unite cordially in 
this patriotic work. If so united and working with resolute 
will and earnest determination, we may hope soon to see the 
dawn of a brighter day for our State. God in His infinite 
mercy grant that it may come speedily, and may He shower 
the richest blessings of peace and happiness on our whole 
people. 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 


203 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 

Paul Hamilton Hayne was born at Charleston, January 
1, 1830, and died at his home, “Copse Hill,” -at Grovetown, 
Georgia, July 6, 1886. He was a son and namesake of a lieu- 
tenant in the navy, and a nephew of the great orator, Robert 
Y. Hayne. Having lost his father during infancy, his educa- 
tion was superintended by his mother and his uncle, who sent 
him to the city schools and later to the College of Charleston, 
where he graduated in 1852. For a short time he practised 
law, but soon abandoned it for a literary career. He became 
successively editor of Russell’s Magazine and the Charleston 
Literary Gazette , at the same time contributing to the 
Southern Literary Messenger and other periodicals. He was 
also prominent, like Timrod, in Simms’s coterie of literary 
men, and published three volumes of poetry in Boston. At 
the outbreak of war in 1861, he became an aide on the staff 
of Governor Pickens, and served until obliged to retire by 
failing health. After this he was a refugee in Greenville and 
later in Winnsboro. Like Timrod again he wrote a number 
of popular war lyrics. His house with his fine library and 
other property having been burned during the bombardment 
of Charleston, he removed, in 1866, with his family to a farm 
in the pine woods about sixteen miles from Augusta, Georgia. 
Here assisted by his noble wife, Mary M. Michel of Charles- 
ton, he waged a cheerful and successful fight against poverty 
and disease. He resumed his editorial work and industri- 
ously contributed to the magazines, especially the Home 
Journal and the Southern Bivouac, a great mass of essays, 
poems, prose fiction, and memoirs of famous men. His gen- 
erous, forgiving spirit, his brave fight for literary indepen- 
dence, and his acknowledged poetical genius won him many 
friends at the North, and he was in this way able to do much 
toward healing the wounds of sectional strife. 


204 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Hayne’s published works include Poems, 1855; Sonnets 
and Other Poems, 1857 ; Avolio, a Legend of the Island of 
Cos, 1859; Legends and Lyrics, 1872; The Mountain of the 
Lovers, and Other Poems, 1873 ; Memoir of Robert Y. Hayne, 
1878; Memoir of Hugh S. Legard, 1878; a complete illus- 
trated edition of his Poems, 1882; and introductions to edi- 
tions of Timrod’s Poems (1873), and Ticknor’s Poems 
(1879) 1 


ASPECTS OF THE PINES. 

(From Poems, 1882.) 

Tall, sombre, grim, against the morning sky 
They rise, scarce touched by melancholy airs, 

Which stir the fadeless foliage dreamfully, 

As if from realms of mystical despairs. 

Tall, sombre, grim, they stand with dusky gleams 
Brightening to gold within the woodland’s core, 
Beneath the gracious noontide’s tranquil beams — 
But the weird winds of morning sigh no more. 

A stillness, strange, divine, ineffable, 

Broods round and o’er them in the wind’s surcease, 
And on each tinted copse and shimmering dell 
Rests the mute rapture of deep-hearted peace. 

Last, sunset comes — the solemn joy and night 

Borne from the West when cloudless day declines — 
Low, flutelike breezes sweep the waves of light, 

And lifting dark green tresses of the pines, 

Till every lock is luminous — gently float, 

Fraught with hale odors up the heavens afar 
To faint when twilight on her virginal throat 
Wears for a gem the tremulous vesper star. 


*This sketch is based on information kindly furnished the author by Mr. William 
H. Hayne, through whose courtesy and the kindness of the publishers, Lothrop, 
Lee & Shepard Company, the following selections, except the last, are here published. 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 


205 


THE PINE'S MYSTERY. 

Listen ! the sombre foliage of the Pine, 

A swart Gitana of the woodland trees, 

Is answering what we may but half divine, 

To those soft whispers of the twilight breeze! 

Passion and mystery murmur through the leaves, 
Passion and mystery, touched by deathless pain. 
Whose monotone of long, low anguish grieves 
For something lost that shall not live again ! 


A DREAM OF THE SOUTH WIND. 

O fresh, how fresh and fair 
Through the crystal gulfs of air, 

The fairy South Wind floateth on her subtle wings of balm ! 
And the green earth lapped in bliss, 

To the magic of her kiss [calm ! 

Seems yearning upward fondly through the golden-crested 

From the distant Tropic strand, 

Where the billows, bright and bland [tune, 

Go creeping, curling round the palms with sweet, faint under- 
From its fields of purpling flowers 
Still wet with fragrant showers, [June. 

The happy South Wind lingering sweeps the royal blooms of 

All heavenly fancies rise 
On the perfume of her sighs, 

Which steep the inmost spirit in a languor rare and fine, 

And a peace more pure than sleep’s 
Unto dim, half-conscious deeps, [divine. 

Transports me, lulled and dreaming, on its twilight tides 

Those dreams ! ah me ! the splendor, 

So mystical and tender, [round, 

Wherewith like soft heart-lightnings they gird their meaning 
And those waters, calling, calling, 

With a nameless charm enthralling, 

Like the ghost of music melting on a rainbow spring of sound ! 


206 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Touch, touch me not, nor wake me, 

Lest grosser thoughts o’ertake me, 

From earth receding faintly with her dreary din and jars, — 
What viewless arms caress me? 

What whispering voices bless me, [drous stars? 
With welcome dropping dewlike from the weird and won- 

Alas! dim, dim, and dimmer 
Grows the preternatural glimmer [of balm, 

Of that trance the South Wind brought me on her subtle wings 
For behold! its spirit flieth. 

And its fairy murmur dieth, 

And the silence closing round me is a dull and soulless calm ! 


THE WOODLAND PHASES. 

Yoni woodland, like a human mind, 

Hath many a phase of dark and bright ; 

Now dim with shadows, wandering blind, 
Now radiant with fair shapes of light. 

They softly come, they softly go, 

Capricious as the vagrant wind, 

Nature’s vague thoughts in gloom or glow, 
That leave no airiest trace behind. 

No trace, no trace! yet wherefore thus 
Do shade and beam our spirits stir? 

Ah ! Nature may be cold to us, 

But we are strangely wooed by her. 

The wild bird’s strain, the breezy spray, 
Each hour with sure earth-changes rife, 

Hint more than all the sages say, 

Or poets sing of death and life. 

For truths half drawn from Nature’s breast, 
Through subtlest types of form and tone, 

Outweigh what man, at most, hath guessed 
While heeding his own heart alone. 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 


20 


And midway, betwixt heaven and us, 
Stands Nature in her fadeless grace, 
Still pointing to our Father’s house, 

His glory on her mystic face. 


BY THE GRAVE OF HENRY TIMROD. 

When last we parted — thy frail hand in mine — 

Above us smiled September’s passionless sky, 

And touched by fragrant airs, the hill-side pine 
Thrilled in the mellow sunshine tenderly ; 

So rich the robe on nature’s slow decay, 

We scarce could deem the winter tide was near, 

Or lurking death, masked in imperial grace ; 

Alas ! that autumn day 
Drew not more close to winter’s empire drear 
Than thou, my heart ! to meet grief face to face ! 

I clasped thy tremulous hand, nor marked how weak 
Its answering grasp ; and if thine eyes did swim 
In unshed tears, and on thy fading cheek 
Rested a nameless shadow, gaunt and dim, — 

My soul was blind ; fear had not touched her sight 
To awful vision ; so, I bade thee go, 

Careless, and tranquil as that treacherous morn ; 

Nor dreamed how soon the blight 
Of long-implanted seeds of care would throw 

Their nightshade flowers above the springing corn. 

Since then, full many a year hath risen and set, 

With spring-tide showers, and autumn pomps unfurled 
O’er gorgeous woods, and mountain walls of jet — 

While love and loss, alternate, ruled the world ; 

Till now once more we meet — my friend and I — 
Once more, once more — and thus, alas ! we meet — 

Above, a rayless heaven ; beneath, a grave ; 

Oh, Christ! and dost thou lie 
Neglected here, in thy worn burial-sheet? 

Friend! were there none to shield thee, none to save? 


208 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Ask of the winter winds — scarce colder they 

Than that strange land — thy birth-place and thy tomb : 
Ask of the sombre cloud-wracks trooping gray, 

And grim as hooded ghosts at stroke of doom; 

At least, the winds, though chill, with gentler sweep 
Seem circling round and o’er thy place of rest, 

While the sad clouds, as clothed in tenderer guise, 

Do lowly bend, and weep 
O’er the dead poet, in whose living breast 

Dumb nature found a voice, how sweet and wise! 


Once more we meet, once more — my friend and I — 
But ah ! his hand is dust, his eyes are dark ; 

Thy merciless weight, thou dread mortality, 

From out his heart hath crushed the latest spark 
Of that warm life, benignly bright and strong; 
Yet no ; we have not met — my friend and I — 

Ashes to ashes in this earthly prison! 

Are these, O child of song, 

Thy glorious self, heir of the stars and sky? 

Thou art not here, not here, for thou hast risen ! 


Death gave thee wings, and lo ! thou hast soared above 
All human utterance and all finite thought; 

Pain may not hound thee through that realm of love, 
Nor grief, wherewith thy mortal days were fraught, 
Load thee again — nor vulture want, that fed 
Even on thy heart’s blood, wound thee; idle, then, 
Our bitter sorrowing ; what though bleak and wild 
Rests thine uncrowned head? 

Known art thou now to angels and to men — 

Heaven’s saint and earth’s brave singer undefiled. 


Even as I spake in broken under-breath 

The winds drooped lifeless; faintly struggling through 
The heaven-bound pall, which seemed a pall of death, 

One cordial sunbeam cleft the opening blue; 

Swiftly it glanced, and settling, softly shone 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 


209 


O’er the grave’s head; in that same instant came 
From the near copse a bird-song half divine ; 
“Heart,” said I, “hush thy moan, 

List the bird’s singing, mark the heaven-born flame, 
God-given are these — an omen and a sign !” 

In the bird’s song an omen his must live! 

In the warm glittering of that golden beam, 

A sign his soul’s majestic hopes survive, 

Raised to fruition o’er life’s weary dream. 

So now I leave him, low, yet, restful here; 

So now I leave him, high-exalted, far 
Beyond all memory of earth’s guilt or guile; 

Hark ! tis his voice of cheer, 

Dropping, methinks, from some mysterious star; 
His face I see, and on his face — a smile ! 


IN HARBOR. 

I think it is over, over, 

I think it is over at last, 

Voices of foeman and lover, 

The sweet and the bitter have passed : — 
Life, like a tempest of ocean 

Hath outblown its ultimate blast: 

There’s but a faint sobbing sea-ward 
While the calm of the tide deepens leeward, 
And behold ! like the welcoming quiver 
Of heart-pulses throbbed thro’ the river, 
Those lights in the harbor at last, 

The heavenly harbor at last! 

I feel it is over, over, 

For the winds and the waters surcease; 
Ah! — few were the days of the rover 
That smiled in the beauty of peace! 

And distant and dim was the omen 
That hinted redress or release : — 


210 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


From the ravage of life, and its riot 
What marvel I yearn for the quiet 
Which bides in the harbor at last? 

For the lights with their welcoming quiver 
That throb through the sanctified river 
Which girdles the harbor at last, 

This heavenly harbor at last? 

I know it is over, over, 

I know it is over at last ! 

Down sail ! the sheathed anchor uncover, 

For the stress of the voyage has passed : 
Life, like a tempest of ocean, 

Hath outbreathed its ultimate blast : 
There’s but a faint sobbing sea-ward, 

While the calm of the tide deepens leeward ; 
And behold ! like the welcoming quiver 
Of heart-pulses throbbed thro’ the river, 

Those lights in the harbor at last, 

The heavenly harbor at last ! 


A JAR OF HONEY . 1 

What strange enchantment, who shall say, 

Lured over lands and over seas, 

Westward, in some long-perished May, 

The brightest of Hymettean bees? 

They clustered in a murmurous swarm 
Where south winds from the Gulf were warm. 

Columbus was a name unborn, 

What time they crossed the mystic waves — 

Ah ! had they left their Greece in scorn, 

Withholding from the greed of slaves 
That honey whose clear amber gleam 
Touched Plato’s mouth in Academe? 

through the courtesy of Mr. William H. Hayne, this poem is here first printed 
in a volume. 


PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE 


211 


Ah ! had they left the gracious slope 

Of their loved mountain home of flowers, 
When the last torch of Freedom’s hope 
Was darkened on her guardian towers? 

And they — such wild and free-born elves — 
Spurned that unhallowed night themselves? 

Enough! they came! our savage glades 

Heard their drowsed bass o’er cane and creek, 
While twilight lips of Indian maids 
Sipped honey of a taste antique; 

And now, their latest offspring’s prize 
Is shrined before these inuseful eyes ! 

Bright harvest of winged, tireless toil, 

Some secret spells of sylvan lore, 

New alchemies of bloom and soil 

Blend richly with the sweets of yore — 
Transmitted thence, undulled from far, 

Hived memories sparkle in the jar ! 

Ye modern bees ! your sires perchance 
Hummed past the loud Athenian quays ; 

Or followed in her first romance, 

The destined love of Pericles, 

While Zeuxis heard, ’mid April grass, 

Your tiny mimicked thunders pass ! 

Your liquid amber, mixed with wine, 

Once flushed Aspasia’s heavenly face, 

When at old banquets, half-divine, 

Mirth, Power and Genius wooed her grace; 
And o’er the board in mad-capped ease, 

Jested young Alcibiades ! 

I turn the glass ; it burns and beams 
In fire-side lustres flashed aslant, 

Until its bosomed splendor teems 
With shapes and colors palpitant ! 

Where twinkling like a wizard star, 

Smiles the quaint genius of the jar ! 


212 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

Unsealed from out its crystal hold, 

Let each slow, honeyed wavelet slip ! 

The melted soul of sunset’s gold 
Is trembling on the perfumed lip ; 

And thoughts, like charmed melodious bees, 
Sing of youth’s lost Hesperides. 


CHARLES COLCOCK HAY 


213 


CHARLES COLCOCK HAY 1 

THE ROSE. 

Most beauteous Flower! the loveliest 
Of all the glittering train 
That Flora leads at vernal morn 
Upon the dewy plain ! 

The modest violet hangs its head, 

The lily’s cheek grows pale, 

When on the heath thy charms appear, 
Thy breath upon the gale. 


Bright harbinger of sunny days — 
Emblem of youth and love! 
Nature hails thee as Noah did 
The olive and the dove: 

At thy approach fond Zephyr comes 
In all a wooer’s pride 
On glorious wing to whisper love, 
And claim his beauteous bride. 


And fair and bright, thy nuptual bower 
’Neath skies of azure hue, 

Joyous the hymeneal song 
That Nature swells for you: 

From sunny hill and verdant plain 
Felicitations rise, 

Birds blithely sing, and laughing brooks 
Send back their glad replies. 


^he author is indebted to Professor F. Horton Colcock, of South Carolina Col- 
lege, for the kind loan of a unique manuscript collection of poems of Charles Col- 
cock Hay, Samuel J. Hay, Helen Hay, Rev. Peronneau Hay, and Patti Lee Hay 
Colcock. 


16 — W. 


214 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


But ah ! how fleeting are thy charms ! 

How brief thy vernal day ! 

Like youth and love, alas ! too soon 
Thou’rt doomed to fade away ; 

The breeze that warmly kissed thy cheek 
Now coldly passes by, 

And leaves thy tender form to droop, 

To wither and to die. 

So thus, too oft, confiding hearts, 

In purest love imbued, 

First feel the chilling slight from those 
Who flattered and who sued; 

And like the blighted rose, that was 
So fair but yesterday, 

Sink with their beauties to the tomb, 
And — unmourned — pass away. 


SAMUEL J. HAY 


215 


SAMUEL J. HAY 

A HEALTH TO OLD VIRGINIA. 

A health to Old Virginia! 

God bless the brave old State ! 

She owneth all the attributes 
That make a nation great : 

Beneath her sod the mighty dead 
In deathless memory sleep, 

While from her soil the noblest types 
Of mortal warriors leap — 

Leap ready armed to work her will 
In Freedom’s righteous cause, 

The guardian of Liberty, 

Religion and the Laws. . 

A health to Old Virginia! 

The storm is on her shores, 

But like her Stonewall Chief she stands 
Unshaken as it roars ; 

Though fearfully before the gale 
The madding billows rise, 

While his wild wings the storm hath spread, 
And darkened earth and skies, 

Yet back the baffled waves must roll, 

Or break against a rock, 

They cannot crush — though nations feel, 

And tremble at the shock. . 


216 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ROBERT Y. HAYNE 1 

Robert Y. Hayne was born in St. Paul’s Parish, Colleton 
District, South Carolina, November 10, 1791; and died at 
Asheville, North Carolina, September 24, 1839. He studied 
law and was admitted to the Charleston bar in 1812. He 
served as captain in the war of 1812. He was elected and 
served as a member of the legislature 1814-1818, and as 
attorney-general of South Carolina 1818-1822. In 1823 he 
was chosen United States senator and held office until 1832. 
As senator he was an opponent of the protective system, and 
in the tariff debate of 1824 first advanced the theory that 
Congress has no Constitutional right to impose duties on 
imports for the protection of home industries. In January, 
1830, the theory of nullification having already been ex- 
pounded by Calhoun, Hayne introduced it into the Senate in 
connection with his speeches on Foote’s resolution, eliciting 
the famous reply of Daniel Webster. He resigned his sen- 
atorship in 1832 to become governor of South Carolina. He 
took a prominent part in the nullification proceedings of 
that year, issuing a counter-proclamation to President Jack- 
son, but a compromise having been effected, he presided 
over the State convention which repealed the ordinance of 
nullification in 1833. The remainder of his life was chiefly 
occupied with State improvements. He was the first mayor 
of Charleston, 1836-7, and was president of the Cincinnati 
and Charleston railroad at the time of his death. He married 
twice, his first wife being Frances Pinckney, who died in 
1818, and his second Rebecca B. Alston, who survived him. 

The Life and Speeches of Robert Y. Hayne was published 
in 1845. His speech in the great debate with Webster has 
been frequently issued separately. Among his other impor- 

^There is uncertainty as to what the initial in Hayne’s name stands for. When- 
ever the name is printed in full it is given as Young , but the historian, Mr. A. S. 
Salley, Jr., has strong evidence going to show that it was Yonge. 


ROBERT Y. HAYNE 


217 


tant speeches should be mentioned his Argument for Free 
Trade in a resolution providing for a reduction of duties to 
a revenue standard, delivered January 9, 1832, in opposition 
to Clay’s resolution. General George McDuffie, at the 
request of the citizens of Charleston, delivered a eulogy upon 
his life and character. 


SOUTH CAROLINA’S DEVOTION TO THE UNION. 

(From the Speech in the Debate with Webster, January 21, 1830.) 

The honorable gentleman from Massachusetts [Mr. Web- 
ster], while he exonerates me personally from the charge, 
intimates that there is a party in the country who are looking 
to disunion. Sir, if the gentleman had stopped there, the 
accusation would have “passed by me like the idle wind, 
which I regard not.” But when he goes on to give to his 
accusation “a local habitation and a name,” by quoting the 
expression of a distinguished citizen of South Carolina [Dr. 
Cooper], “that it was time for the South to calculate the 
value of the Union,” and in the language of the bitterest sar- 
casm, adds, “Surely then the Union cannot last longer than 
July, 1831,” it is impossible to mistake either the allusion or 
the object of the gentleman. Now, Mr. President, I call upon 
every one who hears me to bear witness that this controversy 
is not of my seeking. The Senate will do me the justice to 
remember that, at the time his unprovoked and uncalled-for 
attack was made on the South, not one word had been 
uttered by me in disparagement of New England ; nor had I 
made the most distant allusion either to the Senator from 
Massachusetts or the State he represents. But, sir, that 
gentleman has thought proper, for purposes best known to 
himself, to strike the South, through me, the most unworthy 
of her servants. He has crossed the border, he has invaded 
the State of South Carolina, is making war upon her citizens, 
and endeavoring to overthrow her principles and her insti- 
tutions. Sir, when the gentleman provokes me to such a 
conflict, I meet him at the threshold; I will struggle, while 
I have life, for our altars and our firesides, and, if God gives 
me strength, I will drive back the invader discomfited. Nor 


218 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


shall I stop there. If the gentleman provokes the war, he 
shall have war. Sir, I will not stop at the border; I will 
carry the war into the enemy’s territory, and not consent to 
lay down my arms until I have obtained “indemnity for the 
past and security for the future.” It is with unfeigned 
reluctance, Mr. President, that I enter upon the performance 
of this part of my duty ; I shrink almost instinctively from a 
course, however necessary, which may have a tendency to 
excite sectional feelings and sectional jealousies. But, sir, 
the task has been forced upon me; and I proceed right on- 
ward to the performance of my duty. Be the consequences 
what they may, the responsibility is with those who have 
imposed upon me this necessity. The Senator from Massa- 
chusetts has thought proper to cast the first stone ; and if he 
shall find, according to a homely adage, that “he lives in a 
glass house,” on his head be the consequences. The gentle- 
man has made a great flourish about his fidelity to Massachu- 
setts. I shall make no professions of zeal for the interests 
and honor of South Carolina; of that my constituents shall 
judge. If there be one State in the Union, Mr. President, 
(and I say it not in a boastful spirit,) that may challenge 
comparison with any other, for a uniform, zealous, ardent, 
and uncalculating devotion to the Union, that State is South 
Carolina. Sir, from the very commencement of the [Revolu- 
tion up to this hour, there is no sacrifice, however great, she 
has not cheerfully made, no service she has ever hesitated 
to perform. She has adhered to you in your prosperity; but 
in your adversity she has clung to you with more than filial 
affection. No matter what was the condition of her domestic 
affairs, though deprived of her resources, divided by parties, 
or surrounded with difficulties, the call of the country has 
been to her as the voice of God. Domestic discord ceased at 
the sound; every man became at once reconciled to his 
brethren, and the sons of Carolina were all seen crowding 
together to the temple, bringing their gifts to the altar of 
their common country. 

What, sir, was the conduct of the South during the Revo- 
lution? Sir, I honor New England for her conduct in that 
glorious struggle. But great as is the praise which belongs 
to her, I think at least equal honor is due the South. They 


ROBERT Y. HAYNE 


219 


espoused the quarrel of their brethren with a generous zeal, 
which did not suffer them to stop to calculate their interest 
in the dispute. Favorites of the mother country, possessed 
of neither ships nor seamen to create a commercial rivalship, 
they might have found in their situation a guaranty that 
their trade would be forever fostered and protected by Great 
Britain. But, trampling on all considerations either of 
interest or of safety, they rushed into the conflict, and, fight- 
ing for principle, periled all in the sacred cause of freedom. 
Never were there exhibited in the history of the world higher 
examples of noble daring, dreadful suffering, and heroic 
endurance than by the Whigs of Carolina during the Revolu- 
tion. The whole State, from the mountains to the sea, was 
overrun by an overwhelming force of the enemy. The fruits 
of industry perished on the spot where they were produced, 
or were consumed by the foe. The “plains of Carolina” 
drank up the most precious blood of her citizens. Black and 
smoking ruins marked the places which had been the habita- 
tions of her children. Driven from their homes into the 
gloomy and almost impenetrable swamps, even there the 
spirit of liberty survived, and South Carolina (sustained by 
the example of her Sumters and her Marions) proved, by 
her conduct, that though her soil might be overrun, the spirit 
of her people was invincible. 

But, sir, our country was soon called upon to engage in 
another revolutionary struggle, and that, too, was a struggle 
for principle. I mean the political revolution which dates 
back to ’98, and which, if it had not been successfully 
achieved, would have left us none of the fruits of the Revo- 
lution of ’76. The revolution of ’98 restored the Constitu- 
tion, rescued the liberty of the citizen from the grasp of those 
who were aiming at its life, and, in the emphatic language 
of Mr. Jefferson, “saved the Constitution at its last gasp.” 
And by whom was it achieved? By the South, sir, aided only 
by the democracy of the North and West. 

I come now to the War of 1812, a war which, I well remem- 
ber, was called in derision (while its event was doubtful) 
the Southern war, and sometimes the Carolina war; but 
which is now universally acknowledged to have done more 
for the honor and prosperity of the country than all other 


220 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


events in our history put together. What, sir, were the 
objects of that war? “Free trade and sailors’ rights !” It was 
for the protection of Northern shipping and New England 
seamen that the country flew to arms. What interest had the 
South in that contest? If they had sat down coldly to cal- 
culate the value of their interests involved in it, they would 
have found that they had everything to lose and nothing 
to gain. But, sir, with that generous devotion to country 
so characteristic of the South, they only asked if the rights 
of any portion of their fellow-citizens had been invaded ; and 
when told that Northern ships and New England seamen 
had been arrested on the common highway of nations, they 
felt that the honor of their country was assailed ; and acting 
on that exalted sentiment “which feels a stain like a wound,” 
they resolved to seek, in open war, for a redress of those 
injuries which it did not become freemen to endure. Sir, 
the whole South, animated as by a common impulse, cordially 
united in declaring and promoting that war. South Carolina 
sent to your councils, as the advocates and supporters of that 
war, the noblest of her sons. How they fulfilled that trust, 
let a grateful country tell. Not a measure was adopted, not 
a battle fought, not a victory won, which contributed in any 
degree to the success of that war, to which Southern councils 
and Southern valor did not largely contribute. Sir, since 
South Carolina is assailed, I must be suffered to speak it 
to her praise that at the very moment when, in one quarter, 
we heard it solemnly proclaimed “that it did not become a 
religious and moral people to rejoice at the victories of our 
army or our navy,” her legislature unanimously 

“ Resolved , That we will cordially support the government 
in the vigorous prosecution of the war until a peace can be 
obtained on honorable terms, and we will cheerfully submit 
to every privation that may be required of us by our govern- 
ment for the accomplishment of this object.” 

South Carolina redeemed that pledge. She threw open her 
treasury to the government. She put at the absolute disposal 
of the officers of the United States all that she possessed — 
her men, her money, and her arms. She appropriated half a 
million dollars, on her own account, in defense of her mari- 
time frontier, ordered a brigade of State troops to be raised, 


ROBERT Y. HAYNE 


221 


and when left to protect herself by her own means, never 
suffered the enemy to touch her soil, without being instantly 
driven off or captured. 

Such, sir, was the conduct of the South — such the conduct 
of my own State in that dark hour “which tried men’s 
souls.” 


THE SOUTH CAROLINA DOCTRINE. 

(From the same.) 

Thus it will be seen, Mr. President, that the South Caro- 
lina doctrine is the Republican doctrine of ’98 — that it was 
promulgated by the fathers of the faith — that it was main- 
tained by Virginia and Kentucky in the worst of times — 
that it constituted the very pivot on which the political 
revolution of that day turned — that it embraces the “very 
principles, the triumph of which, at that time, saved the 
Constitution at its last gasp,” and which New England 
statesmen were not unwilling to adopt when they believed 
themselves to be the victims of unconstitutional legislation. 
Sir, as to the doctrine that the Federal Government is the 
exclusive judge of the extent as well as the limitations of its 
powers, it seems to me to be utterly subversive of the sover- 
eignty and independence of the States. It makes but little 
difference, in my estimation, whether Congress or the Su- 
preme Court are invested with this power. If the Federal 
Government, in all or any of its departments, is to prescribe 
the limits of its own authority, and the States are bound to 
submit to the decision, and are not to be allowed to examine 
and decide for themselves when the barriers of the Consti- 
tution shall be overleaped, this is practically “a government 
without limitation of powers.” The States are at once 
reduced to mere petty corporations, and the people are 
entirely at your mercy. I have but one word more to add. 
In all the efforts that have been made by South Carolina to 
resist the unconstitutional laws which Congress has extended 
over them, she has kept steadily in view the preservation of 
the Union by the only means by which she believes it can 
be long preserved — a firm, manly, and steady resistance 


222 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


against usurpation. The measures of the Federal Govern- 
ment have, it is true, prostrated her interest, and will soon 
involve the whole South in irretrievable ruin. But even this 
evil, great as it is, is not the chief ground of our complaints. 
It is the principle involved in the contest — a principle which, 
substituting the discretion of Congress for the limitations 
of the Constitution, brings the States and the people to the 
feet of the Federal Government, and leaves them nothing 
they can call their own. Sir, if the measures of the Federal 
Government were less oppressive, we should still strive 
against this usurpation. The South is acting on a principle 
she has always held sacred — resistance to unauthorized taxa- 
tion. These, sir, are the principles which induced the im- 
mortal Hampden to resist the payment of a tax of twenty 
shillings. “Would twenty shillings have ruined his fortune? 
No! but the payment of half twenty shillings, on the prin- 
ciple on which it was demanded, would have made him a 
slave.” Sir, if, acting on these high motives — if, animated 
by that ardent love of liberty which has always been the 
most prominent trait in the Southern character, we should 
be hurried beyond the bounds of a cold and calculating pru- 
dence, who is there, with one noble and generous sentiment 
in his bosom, that would not be disposed, in the language 
of Burke, to exclaim, “You must pardon something to the 
spirit of liberty”? 


SUSAN PETIGRU KING 


223 


SUSAN PETIGRU KING 

Susan Petigru King [Mrs. 0. 0. Bowen] was born at 
Charleston, South Carolina, in 1826 and died there in Decem- 
ber, 1875. She was the youngest daughter of James L. 
Petigru, one of the most distinguished ante-bellum lawyers 
of the State. Like her father she was famous for her wit and 
cleverness at repartee, and many of her sayings were so 
brilliant that they remain a tradition to this day. The cele- 
brated English author, Thackeray, on one occasion during 
his visit to Charleston undertook a tilt with her and was 
badly discomfited. Her gaiety and conversational gifts made 
her a leading figure in the social life of her native city, and 
her queenly presence and gracious courtesy became a memory 
in the “Jockey” and “St. Cecilia” Clubs. She married twice, 
the first time Captain Henry C. King of Charleston, a gallant 
Confederate soldier who was killed in 1862 in the battle of 
Secessionville, and again in 1873 she married Mr. C. C. 
Bowen. 

Mrs. King was well known as an author of considerable 
ability. She published several novels descriptive of contem- 
porary life, especially that in society circles in Charleston; 
viz., Busy Moments of an Idle Woman, 1854; Lily, a Novel, 
1855; Sylvia’s World, a Novel, 1859; Crimes Which the Law 
Does Not Reach, 1859 (short stories) ; Gerald Gray’s Wife, 
1866; An Actress in High Life, and numerous sketches for 
local magazines. 1 

a lovers’ quarrel. 

(From Sylvia’s World, 1859.) 

There was not a more beautiful avenue of trees in all the 
world than that which led to the front entrance of Oaklevel. 
They were very old — they met overhead and enlaced them- 

x This sketch is based on information kindly furnished the author by Mr. Charles 
J. Colcock, of Charleston. 


224 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


selves with wreaths of moss : the sunlight came flickering 
through the branches and fell stealthily and tremblingly 
upon the clean, smooth ground. Little heaps of dead leaves 
lay here and there, scattered by each breath of the December 
breeze, and forming their tiny mounds in fresh places, as the 
wind trundled them along. 

On a fine, bright morning, some years since, two persons 
were slowly pacing up and down this grand, majestic walk. 
They were both young, and both were handsome. She was 
blonde, and he a dark, grave-looking man. 

“Nelly, I don’t like flirts.” 

“Yes you do — you like me, don’t you?” 

“I don’t like your flirting.” 

“What do you call flirting? If I am to be serious and 
answer your questions, and admit your reproofs and heed 
them — pray begin by answering me a little. When and 
where do I flirt?” 

“Everywhere and at all times.” 

“Be more particular, if you please. Name, sir, name.” 

“I am not jesting, Nelly. Yesterday, at the picnic, you 
talked in a whisper to John Ford, you wore Ned Lawrens’ 
flowers stuck in your belt-ribbon, you danced two waltzes 
with that idiot Percy Forest, and you sat for a full hour 
tete-h-tete with Walter James, and then rode home with him. 
I wish he had broken his neck — him!” and a low muttered 
curse ended the catalogue. 

“If he had broken his neck, very probably he would have 
cracked mine, so thank you ; and please, Harry, don’t swear. 
It is such an ungentlemanly habit, I wonder that you should 
have it. And now for the list of my errors and crimes. The 
mysterious whisper to John Ford was to ask him if he would 
not invite Miss Ellis to dance; I had noticed that no one 
had yet done so. You gave me no flowers, although your 
sister’s garden is full of them this week, so I very naturally 
wore Ned Lawrens’ galanterie in the shape of half-a-dozen 
rosebuds. Percy Forest may be a goose, but he waltzes, cer- 
tainly, with clever feet. One of those waltzes I had offered 
early in the day to you, and you said that you preferred a 
polka. Walter James is an old friend of mine, and for the 
matter of that, of yours, too. We talked very soberly — I 


SUSAN PETIGRU KING 


225 


think that his most desperate speech was the original dis- 
covery that I have pretty blonde ringlets, and when he falls 
in love it shall be with a woman who has curls like mine. 
You best know whether papa allows me to drive with you, 
since our accident — my choice lay between a stuffy, stupid 
carriage, full of dull people, and a nice breezy drive in an 
open wagon with a jolly creature like Walter, whom you 
and I know to be, despite his compliments to my Eve-like 
coloring, eperdument amoureux of Mary Turner’s dark 
beauty. Now, Harry, have not you been unreasonable?” 

“How can I help being so, Nelly, darling, when I am kept 
in this state of misery,” answered Harry, whose frowning 
brow had gradually smoothed itself into a more placable 
expression. “What man on earth could patiently endure 
seeing the woman he adores free to be sought by every one — 
feeling himself bound to her body and soul, and yet not be 
able to claim her in the slightest way — made to pass his life 
in solitary wretchedness because an old lady and gentleman 
are too selfish” 

“Hush, hush, Harry; you are forgetting. I am very 
young ; papa and mamma think me too young to bind myself 
by any engagement.” 

“It is not that. They choose to keep you as long as they 
can moldering with themselves in this Old house.” 

“Harry !” 

“Or else, it is I whom they dislike and refuse to receive as 
a son. Too young? Why, you are nineteen. It is an in- 
famous shame.” 

“I will not speak to you if you go on in this way. You 
know just as well as I do, what their reasons are. My poor 
sister Emily made a love match at eighteen, and died, broken- 
hearted, at twenty-three. Her husband was a violent, jealous 
man who gave her neither peace nor valuable affection. He 
looked upon her as a pretty toy, petted her, and was raging 
if a gentleman spoke more than ten words by her side, so 
long as her beauty and novelty lasted. Her health failed, 
her delicate loveliness departed, and with these went his 
worthless passion. I was a mere child then — the last living 
blossom of a long garland of household flowers — when my 
father laid his beloved Emily in her early grave. I stood 


226 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


by his great chair, that sad evening, in my little black gown, 
when he returned from the funeral, and he placed his hands 
upon my head, and made a vow that never, with his consent, 
should his only remaining darling follow in the steps of the 
lost one. “No man shall have her who has not proved him- 
self worthy to win her. As Jacob served Laban shall her 
future husband serve for her, if it pleases God that she live, 
and that she have suitors.” Day by day, year by year, he has 
but strengthened himself in this determination, and when, 
last spring, you applied to him for my hand, he told you 
frankly that if you had patience to wait, and were convinced 
of the strength of our mutual attachment, on my twenty- 
third birthday, you might claim a Mrs. Harry Trevor from 
his fireside.” 

“But, Nelly, four years to wait! — and all because poor 
Mrs. Vernon had weak lungs — forgive me, dearest — Helen, — 
dearest Helen.” But Helen walked on and away from him 
with proper indignation. 

With impatient strides, he passed her, just as they reached 
the lawn which bordered the avenue and surrounded the 
house. Extending his arms to bar her passage, 

“Listen to me, my own dear Nelly,” he pleaded. “I was 
wrong to say that, but you cannot understand, my angel, how 
furious and intractable I become when I think of those four 
years, those forty-eight months, those incalculable days be- 
tween the time when I shall be sure of you.” 

“If you are not sure of me now, you do not fancy that you 
will be any more so then, do you?” asked Helen, gravely; 
but she permitted him to lead her away from the stone steps 
that she was about mounting, and back to the quiet alley 
under the old oaks. 

He drew her arm through his, gently stroking her gloved 
hand as it rested in his own. 

“If there is no truth and belief between us today, there 
will be none then,” Helen pursued. “I am, in the sight of 
heaven, by my own free will and wish, your affianced wife. 
All the priests on earth would not make me more so, in spirit, 
than I am now. But I respect my father’s wishes and feel- 
ings — and you must do so too,” she added, lifting her eyes 
with such a lovely look of tenderness that Harry, as he 


SUSAN PETIGRU KING 


227 


pressed the hand with renewed fervor, murmured a blessing 
in quite a different tone from the one which he had devoted 
to the now forgotten Walter James. 

He glanced around, and was about to seal his happiness 
upon the dainty, pink lips, smiling so sweetly and con- 
fidingly, but Helen, blushing and laughing, said : 

“Take care, papa is reading yesterday’s paper at the left- 
hand window of the dining-room, and I think if one eye is 
deciding upon the political crisis, the other is directed this 
way.” 

“We are watched, then!” exclaimed Trevor, passionately, 
all his short-lived good humor again flown. “This is worse 
and worse.” 

Helen looked at her lover, with a calm, searching expres- 
sion in her blue eyes: “Perhaps papa is right. He has a 
terror of violent men, and he may like to see if you are always 
as mild as he sees you in my presence.” 

Trevor bit his lip and stamped his foot impatiently. Helen 
hummed a tune and settled her belt ribbon with one hand, 
while she played the notes she was murmuring on the young 
gentleman’s coat sleeve with the other. 

He let the mischievous fingers slide through his arm, and 
“thought it was going to rain, and he had better be thinking 
of his ride to the city.” 

Nelly looked up at the blue heavens, where not a speck of 
a cloud was visible, and gravely congratulated him on a 
weather wisdom, which was equally rare and incomprehen- 
sible. 

“But your season, my dear Harry, is always April; sun- 
shine and storm succeed so rapidly that you can never take 
in the unbroken calm of this — December, for instance. Be- 
sides, I thought you were to stay all night with us? I know 
mamma expects you to do so.” 

“I am very much obliged,” said Mr. Trevor, haughtily, “I 
have business in town.” 

“Clients? Court sitting?” asked Nelly, innocently and 
demurely lifting her pretty eyebrows. 

“No. There is a party at Lou Wilson’s, and I half prom- 
ised to go. We are to try some new figures of the german. 


228 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“Indeed.” Nelly’s eyes flashed, and the color stole up 
deeper to her cheek. “I won’t detain you.” 

She bowed and turned from him, with a cold “good morn- 
ing.” Her heart was beating and the tears were very near, 
but she managed to still the one and send back the others, 
so as to say indifferently over her shoulder : “Should you see 
Walter James, pray tell him that I shall be happy to learn 
that accompaniment by this evening, and as there is a moon 
(in spite of your storm), he can ride out after business hours, 
and practice the song. But, however, I won’t trouble you, 
mamma is to send a servant to Mrs. James’ some time today, 
and I will write a note.” 

“I think it will be useless; he is going to Miss Wilson’s.” 

“Not if he can come here, I fancy,” said the wilful little 
beauty, with a significant tone — and then, repeating her 
cool “good-bye — let us see you soon,” she sauntered into the 
house, elaborately pausing to pick off some dead leaves from 
the geraniums that were sunning themselves on the broad 
steps by which she entered. 

Thus parted two foolish children — one of whom had a 
moment before expressed the most overwhelming passion, 
and the other had avowed herself “in the sight of heaven, his 
affianced wife !” 


MAXIMILIAN LA BORDE 


229 


MAXIMILIAN LA BORDE 

Maximilian La Borde was born at Edgefield, South Caro- 
lina, June 5, 1804, and died at Columbia, November 6, 1873. 
His father was a native of Bordeaux, Prance, and became a 
wealthy planter in San Domingo, but emigrated to Charles- 
ton during the insurrection of 1791. He attended the acad- 
emy of Chancellor J. C. Caldwell, and graduated at South 
Carolina College in 1820. He began the study of law in 
the office of Simkins and McDuffie, but soon turned to that 
of medicine, graduating at the Charleston Medical College in 
1826. In 1836 he assisted General James Jones in founding 
the Edgefield Advertiser , at the same time carrying on his 
practice. He was elected a member of the legislature in 1836, 
and Secretary of State three years later. In 1842 he was 
made professor of belles lettres in South Carolina College. 
In 1845 he was transferred to the chair of metaphysics, but 
when the institution became the University, he was assigned 
the chair of English, which he held until his resignation a 
month before his death. During the war for secession he was 
employed in establishing wayside hospitals and in the relief 
of the soldiers. 

Dr. La Borde was the author of an Introduction to Physi- 
ology, The Story of Lethea and Verona, and The History of 
the South Carolina College, a work of great interest and im- 
portance. 


THORNWELL AS SCHOLAR AND TEACHER. 

(From History of the South Carolina College, 1859.) 

It is now in order for me to speak of Dr. Thornwell as an 
instructor in the College. It will be seen that he wanted a 
few days of being twenty-five years old when he was elected 


16 — W. 


230 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


to a professorship. When a student, he made an extraor- 
dinary impression upon the faculty. He was particularly a 
favorite with Cooper and Henry, and struck by his genius 
and attainments, they predicted with confidence his future 
distinction. As soon as he entered upon his duties as pro- 
fessor, all felt that the faculty had received a most valuable 
accession. The character of his intellect, his scholarly tastes, 
his rare learning for one of his years, his ardor, his enthu- 
siasm, his insatiable thirst for knowledge, his talent for easy 
communication, all this pointed to a college as a most becom- 
ing theatre for his exertion. As a teacher, few, if any, have 
equalled, certainly none have surpassed him. Never was 
there in our walls a clearer head, a more acute mind. Always 
master of his subject, he was ever prepared to disentangle 
it of the rubbish with which it was encumbered, and, seizing 
upon its main points, to press them with a power and earnest- 
ness which were sure to make an impression. The most 
complex problems, the most abstract questions furnished the 
occasions for the display of his highest powers. He lux- 
uriated in the profound, and dwelt with delight upon 
subjects, which by the many are regarded as incompre- 
hensible. His mind was ever in search of law and principle; 
errors, like straws, he knew, floated upon the surface, and 
truth, like the pearl, was only to be found below. Dr. Thorn- 
well first filled the Professorship of Belles Lettres and 
Criticism, and though none could witness his teachings with- 
out perceiving the genius and ability for which he is 
remarkable, yet the department was not congenial to his 
tastes, and the highest proofs of his powers are to be sought 
elsewhere. And here I may be permitted to say, that he has 
but little appreciation of the beautiful, whether in nature or 
art. He has his taste, but it has no great sympathy with the 
common standard of the world. He is essentially a man of 
truth, and though none is more addicted to sober, philo- 
sophical speculation, still he is always in search of the real. 
He will accept no ideal, he will rest upon no counterfeit. He 
wants the thing itself. He revolts at the imaginative, the 
fictitious, the mere pictorial illustration, the imitative, and 
instinctively turns away from what Scott calls, “forging the 
handwriting of nature.” Of the world of fancy — a world 


MAXIMILIAN LA BORDE 


231 


redolent with a beauty which nature in all her prodigality 
does not exhibit, where 

“All that is most beauteous — imaged there 
In happier beauty, more pellucid streams, 

An ampler ether, a diviner air, 

And fields invested with purpureal gleams,” 


he knows but little. His mind is logical, argumentative, 
metaphysical, and it is in this field of exertion that nls genius 
has reaped its highest rewards. He has a love for ancient 
thought and speculation amounting almost to reverence, and 
his chosen companionship is with his great masters, Plato 
and Aristotle, with whom he wanders, as Milton styles it, in 
“the shady spaces of philosophy.” The most interesting 
aspect, therefore, in which he is to be regarded as an in- 
structor, is in the department of Logic and the Metaphysical 
and Moral Sciences. I think it is not saying too much to 
add, that never was the instruction in those branches of 
knowledge so ably conducted as when he had charge of them. 
In most youthful minds their very abstract nature produces 
a degree of repulsiveness which is not easily overcome; but 
by his genius and learning he so completely vindicated their 
utility and elevating tendencies, that they are now as favorite 
pursuits as any others in the College. The reader is prepared 
to anticipate the particular branches of learning in which 
he has made his principal acquisitions. But I will proceed 
now to express this more articulately. That he should have 
formed opinions of his own upon all the vexed questions 
connected with Logic, such as its precise nature and char- 
acter, its utility as a branch of education, etc., and that he 
should have explored its learning, is no more than was to be 
expected. Immense as is this literature, he has mastered it 
all; and from the time of Aristotle, to that of Sir William 
Hamilton, there is no author of note with whom he is not 
familiar. He has given to each the most patient study, and 
thoroughly imbued as he is with a love of philosophy and 
speculation, has subjected them all to the severe scrutiny of 
his own powers. He is no dreamy theorist, who has hap- 
pened to incorporate a particular idea in an educational 
system ; but he exemplifies in his own writings and discourses 


232 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


the value of those studies, of which he is the able and elo- 
quent exponent. Who can resist the power of his logic, and 
who can extricate himself from his meshes when he becomes 
entangled in them? Whether it be the science or the art 
of reasoning, or both ; whether it be the science which treats 
rather of the laws of thought, than of the laws of reasoning; 
whether its domain is so exclusive as not to allow of the intro- 
duction of metaphysical notions ; whether it is purely deduc- 
tive, or may be identified with the inductive, no matter how 
these questions may be determined, Dr. Thornwell is entitled 
to the proud distinction of being the Logician in our midst. 


HENRY LAURENS 


233 


HENRY LAURENS 

Henry Laurens was born at Charleston in 1724, and died 
there in 1792. He was of French Huguenot descent. He 
received the training for a successful business career partly 
in Charleston and partly in London. He was vice-president 
of South Carolina in 1770. From 1771 to 1774 he traveled 
in England and on the continent, becoming acquainted with 
many of the most illustrious men of the time. After holding 
several public offices in South Carolina and serving against 
the Indians, he was elected a delegate to the Continental 
Congress, of which he was chosen president. In 1779 he was 
sent as minister to Holland, but was captured and im- 
prisoned in the Tower of London for more than a year as a 
suspected traitor. At the close of the Revolution he was 
exchanged for Lord Cornwallis and represented this country 
in the preliminary negotiations for peace. His narrative of 
his capture, of his confinement in the Tower of London, etc., 
1780, 1781, 1782, is found in the Collections of the South 
Carolina Historical Society, Yol. I, 1857. He was an ardent 
patriot and a man of incorruptible integrity. Tyler styles 
him “the noblest Roman of them all.” 

A PATRIOTIC TOAST. 

(From A Narrative of the Capture of Henry Laurens, etc.) 

The 14th or 15th September [1780], the Vestal and Fairy, 
which had joined her, entered the Basin of St. Johns, New- 
foundland. Soon after we had anchored, Admiral Edwards 
sent his compliments, desiring I would dine with him that 
and every day while I should- remain in the land. 

The Admiral received me politely at dinner ; seated me at 
his right hand; after dinner he toasted the king; I joined. 
Immediately after he asked a toast from me. I gave “General 
Washington,” which was repeated by the whole company, 
and created a little mirth at the lower end of the table. The 


234 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Admiral, in course of conversation, observed I had been 
pretty active among my countrymen. I replied that I had 
once been a good British subject, but after Great Britain 
had refused to hear our petitions, and had thrown us out 
of her protection, I had endeavored to do my duty. 


A PRISONER IN THE TOWER. 

(From the same.) 

September 23d. [1781] — For some time past I have been 
frequently and strongly tempted to make my escape from 
the Tower, assured, “It was the advice and desire of all my 
friends, the thing might be easily effected, the face of Amer- 
ican affairs was extremely gloomy. That I might have 
eighteen hours start before I was missed; time enough to 
reach Margate and Ostend ; that it was believed there would 
be no pursuit,” etc., etc. I had always said : “I hate the name 
of a runaway.” At length I put a stop to farther applica- 
tions by saying, “I will not attempt an escape. The gates 
were opened for me to enter; they shall be opened for me to 
go out of the Tower. God Almighty sent me here for some 
purpose. I am determined to see the end of it.” Where the 
project of an escape originated is uncertain ; but I am fully 
convinced it was not the scheme of the person who spoke to 
me upon the subject. The ruin of that person and family 
would have been the consequence of my escape, unless there 
had been some previous assurance of indemnification. 


MARY ELIZABETH LEE 


235 


MARY ELIZABETH LEE 

Mary Elizabeth Lee was born at Charleston, March 23, 
1813, and died there September 23, 1849. She came of a 
family long settled in South Carolina, and her grandfather, 
Colonel William Lee, was one of the exiles sent by the British 
to St. Augustine. William Lee, her father, was a lawyer, 
and for some time practised with his brother Thomas, after- 
wards United States Judge for South Carolina. 

Her simple and uneventful life was devoted to home duties 
(in which she excelled) and to study and literature. She 
contributed to The Orion , The Southern Rose and similar 
current local publications, and also to Graham’s Magazine, 
The Southern Literary Messenger, and other magazines. 
One prose work, Historical Tales for Youth, was the out- 
come of a successful competition for a prize offered by the 
Massachusetts Educational Board for books to be intro- 
duced into the school libraries. Her work was one of those 
adopted, and was regarded as one of the most popular and 
useful. 

Miss Lee’s mind was highly cultivated, and her character 
and disposition were beautiful. While apparently absorbed 
in her writings, she devoted much attention to painting, an 
art in which she attained considerable proficiency. She com- 
manded respect and affection on all sides in her community, 
where she possessed a distinct place as a gentle and poetic 
influence at a period when literary activity was rarer than at 
present. 1 

Her poems were republished in a volume after her death, 
with a Memoir by Dr. Samuel Gilman. Some of the best 
known and most meritorious are “The Blind Negro Com- 
municant,” “The Poets,” “Summer Rain,” “Light,” “The 


1 For the above sketch the author is indebted to Mr. A. Markley Lee, of the 
Charleston bar. 


236 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Last Place of Sleep,” “An Eastern Love Song,” The Indian’s 
Bevenge,” and a few others. Her translations from the Ger- 
man and adaptations from the Bible, are felicitous both in 
versification and expression. Koerner’s “Battle Hymn” and 
Schiller’s “Division of the Earth” do full justice to the 
originals, and her paraphrase of the 103rd Psalm is a noble 
poetic rendering of the English version. 


THE POETS. 

(From Poetical Remains of Mary Elizabeth Lee, 1851.) 

The poets — the poets — 

Those giants of the earth: 

In mighty strength they tower above 
The men of common birth; 

A noble race — they mingle not 
Among the motley throng, 

But move, with slow and measured steps, 
To music-notes along. 


The poets — the poets — 

What conquests they can boast ! 

Without one drop of life-blood spilt, 

They rule a world’s wide host; 

Their stainless banner floats unharmed 
From age to lengthened age ; 

And history records their deeds 
Upon her proudest page. 

The poets — the poets — 

How endless is their fame! 

Death, like a thin mist, comes, yet leaves 
No shadow on each name; 

But as yon starry gems that gleam 
In evening’s crystal sky, 

So have they won, in memory’s depth, 

An immortality. 


MARY ELIZABETH LEE 


237 


The poets — the poets — 

Who doth not linger o’er 

The glorious volumes that contain 
Their bright and spotless lore? 

They charm us in the saddest hours. 
Our richest joys they feed; 

And love for them has grown to be 
A universal creed. 

The poets — the poets — 

Those kingly minstrels dead, 

Well may we twine a votive wreath 
Around each honored head : 

No tribute is too high to give 

Those crowned ones among men. 

The poets ! the true poets ! 

Thanks be to God for them ! 


THE SPRING. 

(From the same.) 

The Spring! The new-born Spring! 

That pet-child of the year; 

It comes in gay and thoughtless glee, 
Bounding o’er Winter’s bier: 
Fresh flowers look up to greet it, 
Birds spring from out the grass ; 
The very air with joy keeps time 
To its footsteps as they pass. 

The Spring ! the buoyant Spring ! 

Oh! happy is its lot, 

It wins a blessing and a smile 
From palace and from cot. 

All watch its truant gambols 
Along a devious maze : 

It findeth out some beauty 
In earth’s most dreary ways. 


238 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


The Spring! the balmy Spring! 

For pastime it doth sip 
Honey and dew from every bud 
That opes a nectared lip; 

And as its soft, cool breathings 
Just now across me moved, 

My blood ran warm, as when I meet 
The kiss of one beloved. 

The Spring! the tireless Spring! 

With its full wealth of flowers ; 

I wonder if ’twill hold such sway 
Through all life’s hardening hours; 
I wonder, when my head grows white, 
And life’s a breaking string — 

If such a childhood of the heart 
Will always come with Spring! 


THE LAST PLACE OF SLEEP. 

(From the same.) 

Lay me not in green-wood lone, 
Where the sad wind maketh moan, 
Where the sun hath never shone, 
Save as if in sadness ; 

Nor, I pray thee, let me be 
Buried ’neath the chill, cold sea, 
Where the waves, tumultous, free, 
Chafe themselves to madness. 

But in yon enclosure small, 

Near the church-yard’s mossy wall, 
Where the dew and sunlight fall, 

I would have my dwelling; 
Sure, there are some friends, I wot, 
Who would make that narrow spot 
Lovely as a garden plot, 

With rich perfumes swelling. 


MAEY ELIZABETH LEE 


239 


Let no costly stone be brought, 

Where a stranger’s hand hath wrought 
Vain inscriptions speaking nought 
To the true affections; 

But, above the quiet bed, 

Where I rest my weary head, 

Plant those buds, whose perfumes shed 
Tenderest recollections. 

Then, as every year, the tide 
Of strong death bears to my side 
Those, who were by love allied, 

As the flowers of summer; 

Sweet to think, that from the mould 
Of my body long since cold, 

Plants of beauty shall enfold 
Every dear new-comer. 


240 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


HUGH SWINTON LEGARE 

Hugh Swinton LegarJ: was born at Charleston, January 
2, 1797, and died at Boston, June 20, 1843. He was descended 
from Scotch and Huguenot ancestors. He nearly lost his 
life when a child as the result of inoculation with the small- 
pox, and throughout life his legs were dwarfed, though his 
head and chest were finely developed. Being thus deprived 
of out-door exercises he became a hard student and event- 
ually one of the most cultured and learned public men in 
America. He was prepared for college by Mitchell King at 
the high school of Charleston and by Dr. Waddel at the 
Willington Academy. He then attended South Carolina Col- 
lege, where he was highly distinguished as a student of 
ancient and modern languages, and in 1814 graduated with 
the first honor. After studying law in Charleston under 
King for three years, he visited Europe for two years, spend- 
ing much time in study at Paris and at Edinburgh, where 
he met George Tichnor. On returning to Charleston in 1820 
he was sent to the legislature for two years, practised law 
and managed a plantation on John’s Island. From 1824 to 
1830 he was again in the general assembly. Early in the 
year 1828 he and Stephen Elliott, the botanist, jointly 
founded The Southern Review, a quarterly magazine, of 
which he served as editor during its life of four years. He 
contributed to it some of his most scholarly reviews and 
secured a good list of able contributors. He became attorney- 
general of the State in 1830, and from 1832 to 1836 was 
charge d’ affaires at Brussels, where he continued his studies 
in the civil law. He opposed the Nullification movement. 
He was elected to Congress in 1836, but was defeated in 
1838 due to his opposition to the sub-treasury bill. In 1841 
he was appointed attorney-general of the United States by 
Tyler, and on Webster’s retirement acted as secretary of 
state for several months. His closing years were saddened 


HUGH SWINTON LEGAKfi 


241 


by ill health and loss of relatives. He died at the home of 
his friend Tichnor while attending the Bunker Hill celebra- 
tion with the President. 

Legard’s writings were collected by his sister, Mrs. Bullen, 
in 1846, and published posthumously in two volumes with 
a memoir. These volumes include his Diary of Brussels; 
Journal of the Rhine; Diplomatic Correspondence; Private 
Correspondence, and essays on Demosthenes, the Man, the 
Orator, and the Statesman; Athenian Democracy; Origin, 
History, and Influence of the Roman Legislation; The Con- 
stitutional History of Greece; Classical Learning; Roman 
Literature, and Catullus. A short sketch of his life was 
published by Paul H. Hayne in 1878. 

THE STUDY OF THE CLASSICS. 

(From the Works of Hugh Swinton Legare, 1846.) 

We now approach, with more confidence, the second ques- 
tion, how far it is worth our while to study the writings of 
the ancients as models, and to make them a regular part of 
an academic course. We shall be obliged to be more brief 
upon this branch of the subject than we could wish to be, 
but will endeavor to urge some of the strongest grounds in 
favor of the established system. 

And first, it is, independently of all regard to their excel- 
lence, a most important consideration, that our whole litera- 
ture in every part and parcel of it, has immediate and 
constant reference to these writings. This is so true, that 
no one, who is not a scholar can even understand — without 
the aid of labored scholia, which, after all, can never afford 
a just, much less a lively idea of the beauties of the text — 
thousands of the finest passages, both in prose and poetry. 
Let any one who doubts this, open Milton where he pleases, 
and read ten pages together, and we think he will confess 
that our opinion is well founded. Indeed, a knowledge of 
Latin and Greek is almost as much presupposed fin our litera- 
ture, as that of the alphabet, and the facts or the fictions 
of ancient history and mythology, are as familiarly alluded 
to in the learned circles of England, as any of the laws or 
phenomena in nature. . 


242 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


We mention as another important consideration, that the 
knowledge of these languages brings us acquainted, famil- 
iarly, minutely and impressively, with a state of society 
altogether unlike anything that we see in modern times. 
When we read a foreign author of our own day, we occa- 
sionally, indeed, remark differences in taste, in character 
and customs; but in general, we find ourselves en pays de 
connaissance. Modern civilization, of which one most im- 
portant element is a common religion, is pretty uniform. 
But the moment we open a Greek book we are struck with 
the change. We are in quite a new world, combining all that 
is wonderful in fiction, with all that is instructive in truth. 
Manners and customs, education, religion, national charac- 
ter, everything is original and peculiar. Consider the priest 
and the temple, the altar and the sacrifice, the chorus and 
the festal pomp, the gymnastic exercises, and those Olympic 
games, whither universal Greece repaired with all her wealth, 
her strength, her genius and taste — where the greatest cities 
and kings, and the other first men of their day, partook with 
an enthusiastic rivalry, scarcely conceivable to us, in the 
interest of the occasion, whether it was a race, a boxing 
match, a contest of musicians, or an oration, or a notable 
history to be read to the mingled throng — and where the 
horse and the rider, the chariot and the charioteer, were 
consecrated by the honors of the crown and the renown of 
the triumphal ode. Look into the theaters where “the lofty 
grave tragedians” contend, in their turn, for the favor of 
the same cultivated people, and where Aristophanes, in 
verses, which, by the confession of all critics, were never sur- 
passed in energy and spirit, in Attic purity and the most 
exquisite modulations of harmony, is holding up Socrates — 
the wisest of mankind — to the contempt and ridicule of the 
mob, if that Athenian Demus, that could only be success- 
fully courted with such verses, does not disdain the appella- 
tion. 

It is impossible to contemplate the annals of Greek litera- 
ture and art, without being struck by them as by far the most 
extraordinary and brilliant phenomenon in the history of the 
human mind. The very language — even in its primitive sim- 
plicity, as it came down from the rhapsodists who celebrated 


HUGH SWINTON LEGARfi 


243 


the exploits of Hercules and Theseos, was as great a wonder 
as any it records. All the other tongues that civilized men 
have spoken, are poor and feeble, and barbarous, in com- 
parison of it. Its compass and flexibility, its riches and 
its powers, are altogether unlimited. It not only expresses 
with precision all that is thought or known at any given 
period, but it enlarges itself naturally, with the progress of 
science, and affords, as if without an effort, a new phrase, or 
a systematic nomenclature whenever one is called for. It is 
equally adapted to every variety of style and subject — to 
the most shadowy subtlety of distinction, and the utmost 
exactness of definition, as well as to the energy and the pathos 
of popular eloquence — to the majesty, the elevation, the 
variety of the epic, and the boldest license of the dithyrambic, 
no less than to the sweetness of the elegy, the simplicity of 
the pastoral, or the heedless gaiety and delicate character- 
ization of comedy. Above all, what is an unspeakable charm 
— a sort of naivete is peculiar to it, which appears in all 
those various styles, and is quite as becoming and agreeable 
in a historian or a philosopher — Xenophon, for instance — 
as in the light and jocund numbers of Anacreon. Indeed, 
were there no other object in learning Greek but to see to 
what perfection language is capable of being carried, not 
only as a medium of communication, but as an instrument 
of thought, we see not why the time of a young man would 
not be just as well bestowed in acquiring a knowledge of it — 
for all the purposes, at least, of a liberal or elementary edu- 
cation — as in learning algebra, another specimen of a 
language or arrangement of signs perfect in its kind. But 
this wonderful idiom happens to have been spoken, as was 
hinted in the preceding paragraph, by a race as wonderful. 
The very first monument of their genius — the most ancient 
relic of letters in the Western world — stands to this day 
altogether unrivalled in the exalted class to which it belongs. 
What was the history of this immortal poem and of its great 
fellow? Was it a single individual, and who was he, that 
composed them? Had he any master or model? What had 
been his education, and what was the state of society in which 
he lived? . 

All we ask then, is that a boy should be thoroughly taught 


244 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


in the ancient languages from his eighth to his sixteenth 
year, or thereabouts, in which time he will have his taste 
formed, his love of letters completely, perhaps enthusi- 
astically awakened, his knowledge of the principles of 
universal grammar perfected, his memory stored with the 
history, the geography, and the chronology of all antiquity, 
and with a vast fund of miscellaneous literature besides, and 
his imagination kindled with the most beautiful and glowing 
passages of Greek and Roman poetry and eloquence; all the 
rules of criticism familiar to him, the sayings of sages, and 
the achievements of heroes, indelibly impressed upon his 
heart. He will have his curiosity fired for further acquisi- 
tion, and find himself in possession of the golden keys, which 
open all the recesses where the stores of knowledge have ever 
been laid up by civilized man. The consciousness of 
strength will give him confidence, and he will go to the rich 
treasures themselves and take what he wants, instead of 
picking up eleemosynary scraps from those whom, in spite 
of himself, he will regard as his betters in literature. He 
will be let into that great communion of scholars throughout 
all ages and all nations — like that more awful communion 
of saints in the Holy Church Universal — and feel a sym- 
pathy with departed genius, and with the enlightened and 
the gifted minds of other countries, as they appear before 
him, in the transports of a sort of Vision Beatific, bowing 
down at the same shrines and glowing with the same holy 
love of whatever is most pure and fair, and exalted and 
divine in human nature. Above all, our American youth 
will learn, that liberty — which is sweet to all men, but which 
is the passion of proud minds that cannot stoop to less — 
has been the nurse of all that is sublime in character and 
genius. They will see her form and feel her influence in 
everything that antiquity has left for our admiration — that 
bards consecrated their harps to her — that she spoke from 
the lips of the mighty orators — that she fought and con- 
quered, acted and suffered with the heroes whom she had 
formed and inspired; and, after ages of glory and virtue 
fell with Him — her all-accomplished hope — Him, the Last of 
Romans — the self-immolated martyr of Philippi. Our young 
student will find his devotion to his country — his free 


HUGH SWINTON LEGARfi 


245 


country — become at once more fervid and more enlightened, 
and think scorn of the wretched creatures who have scoffed 
at the sublime simplicity of her institutions, and “esteem it,” 
as one expresses it, who learned to be a republican in the 
schools of antiquity, much better to imitate the old and ele- 
gant humanity of Greece, than the barbaric pride of a Nor- 
wegian or Hunnish stateliness; and, let us add, will come 
much more to despise that slavish and nauseating subser- 
viency to rank and title, with which all European literature 
is steeped through and through. If Americans are to study 
any foreign literature at all, it ought, undoubtedly, to be the 
Classical, and especially the Greek. 


CHARACTER OF DEMOSTHENES. 

(Prom the Essay on Demosthenes.) 

The charge of effeminacy and want of courage in battle 
seems to be considered as better founded. Plutarch admits 
it fully. His foppery is matter of ridicule to /Escliines, 
who, at the same time, in rather a remarkable passage in 
his speech on the Crown, gives us some clue to the popular 
report as to his deficiency in the military virtues of antiquity. 
“Who,” says he “will be there to sympathize with him? Not 
they who have been trained with him in the same gymna- 
sium? No, by Olympian Jove! for, in his youth, instead of 
hunting the wild boar and addicting himself to exercises 
which give strength and activity to the body, he was studying 
the arts that were one day to make him the scourge of the 
rich.” Those exercises were, in the system of the Greeks, 
considered as absolutely indispensable to a liberal education. 
That of Demosthenes was certainly neglected by his guar- 
dians, and the probability is that the effeminacy with which 
he was reproached meant nothing more than that he had 
not frequented in youth the palestra and the gymnasium, 
and that his bodily training had been sacrificed to his intel- 
lectual. 

That he possessed moral courage of the most sublime order 
is past all question; but his nerves were weak. If the 


17— W. 


246 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


tradition that is come down to us in regard to his natural 
defects as an orator is not a gross exaggeration, he had 
enough to occupy him for years in the correction of them. 
But what an idea does it suggest to us of the mighty will, 
the indomitable spirit, the decided and unchangeable voca- 
tion, that, in spite of so many impediments, his genius ful- 
filled its destiny, and attained at last to the supremacy at 
which it aimed from the first! His was that deep love of 
ideal beauty, that passionate pursuit of eloquence in the 
abstract, that insatiable thirst after perfection in art for its 
own sake, without which no man ever produced a master- 
piece of genius. Plutarch, in his usual graphic style, places 
him before us as if he were an acquaintance, — aloof from the 
world; immersed in the study of his high calling, with his 
brow never unbent from care and thought ; severely abstemi- 
ous in the midst of dissoluteness and debauchery; a water- 
drinker among Greeks; like that other Agonistes, elected 
and ordained to struggle, to suffer, and to perish for a people 
unworthy of him : — 

“His mighty champion, strong above compare, 

Whose drink was only from the liquid brook.” 


Let any one who has considered the state of manners at 
Athens just at the moment of his appearance upon the stage 
of public life, imagine what an impression such a phenome- 
non must have made upon a people so lost in profligacy and 
sensuality of all sorts. What wonder that the unprincipled 
though gifted Demades, the very personification of the witty 
and reckless libertinism of the age, should deride and scoff 
at this strange man, living as nobody else lived, thinking 
as nobody else thought; a prophet, crying from his solitude 
of great troubles at hand; the apostle of the past; the 
preacher of an impossible restoration; the witness to his 
contemporaries that their degeneracy was incorrigible and 
their doom hopeless; and that another seal in the book was 
broken, and a new era of calamity and downfall opened in 
the history of nations. 

We have said that the character of Demosthenes might 
be divined from his eloquence; and so the character of his 
eloquence was a mere emanation of his own. It was the life 


HUGH SWINTON LEGARfi 


247 


and soul of the man, the patriot, the statesman. “Its highest 
attribute of all,” says Dionysius, “is the spirit of life — 
to TTveypa — that pervades it.” 


DINING WITH ROYALTY. 

(From a Letter to the Author’s Sisters, dated Brussels, March 24, 1833.) 

At table, the fashion in Europe is not like yours, for the 
master of the house to sit at one end , and the mistress at the 
other. The place of honor is at the side and at the middle 
of the board. When I dined at Neuilly, 1 the queen sat on 
one side, and the king opposite to her on the other, but 
Leopold 2 and Louise are inseparable, at least at dinner — 
and, judging from their most amiable characters and affec- 
tionate dispositions, I should suppose every where else. The 
Grand Marshal of the palace, here, always takes his place 
opposite to their Majesties. And so it was on the occasion 
in question. On the right of the King sat the Queen of the 
French, on her right the Queen of the Belgians, next to her 
the Duke of Orleans, next the Duchess d’Arenberg, next 
Count de La Latour Maubourg, etc., etc. On the left of the 
King was the Princess Marie, next the English ambassador, 
etc. The Grand Marshal had on his right the Lady of Honor 
handed in by the Duke d’Arenberg, on whose right sat the 
Duke himself; on the left was Madame d’Hoogvorst, and 
next to her your humble servant, — so that I sat immediately 
opposite the Queen of the Belgians, whose sweet, modest face 
I am never tired of looking upon. The dinner was served 
with the highest magnificence of the court, — the crowd of 
servants in waiting being decked out in their most showy 
liveries, (scarlet and gold for some, while others wore a more 
modest uniform, with swords at their sides,) — and the table 
itself covered with gold and silver, and, at the dessert, with 
Sevres china. — This last, which is the most beautiful painted 
china, manufactured near Paris, at a cost of 300 francs (sixty 

^his chateau near Paris was the favorite residence of Louis Philippe, King of 
the French. 

2 Leopold I, King of the Belgians (1831-1865), who married the Princess Louise, 
daughter of Louis Philippe. 


248 


THE WRITERS OF SOTJTH CAROLINA 


dollars) a plate, was a bridal present to the queen from her 
father. A grand band of music played the most fashionable 
and admired pieces of the great German and Italian masters, 
at intervals during the dinner, — which, in all other respects, 
went off as Court dinners always do, with the gravest 
decorum, — a conversation confined to two, — with no variety 
except an occasional change from right to left, wnen one or 
the other of your neighbors, as it happens, is run out of small 
talk, and carried on, of course, in a sort of whisper. Cer- 
tainly, however, it must be confessed that a vast table, 
covered with so much magnificence, and surrounded by ladies 
and gentlemen, — the former sparkling with diamonds, the 
latter all in Court embroidery, — presents a very brilliant 
coup d’oeil. I was never before so much struck with the 
effect of precious stones in a lady’s toilette, as with the richly- 
coloured beams of light that glittered about the neck and 
head of the Duchess d’Arenberg, — a very fine woman, about 
thirty-five, who was arrayed- in more than the glory of Solo- 
mon. The worst of a dinner at Court is that, after having 
got through the tedious formalities of the reception and the 
execution, (they endure a couple of hours or so,) the whole 
company is marched back into the salle de reception, where 
coffee is served with liquer^, and there are sometimes kept 
standing (for none but the ladies who take their places at 
the queen’s round table after dinner, in the middle of the 
room, are allowed to sit) sometimes for another hour, or hour 
and a half. For me, whose habit is and always has been, 
if possible, to stretch myself off at full length upon a sofa, 
or, at least, recline quite at my ease after dinner, this part 
of my diplomatic duties— aggravated, as it is, by being but- 
toned up close in a uniform coat made last summer, when 
I was by no means in such good case as I am now — is quite a 
serious task. 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGAKfi 


249 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGARE 

James Mathewes LegarS was born at Charleston, No- 
vember 26, 1823, and died at Aiken, South Carolina, March 
30, 1859. He was a relative of Hugh S. Legard and de- 
scended from Scotch and Huguenot stock. He studied law 
and practised it with moderate success in Charleston. His 
heart was more given to literature, and he contributed poems 
and prose articles from time to time to several magazines. 
He patented several inventions which failing health pre- 
vented him from .fully developing. He published in 1847 
Orta-Undis and Other Poems, a volume of one hundred 
pages containing his best work. From it are taken all the 
poems in this collection, “The Reaper,” “To a Lily,” “Haw- 
Blossoms,” “Tallulah,” “On the Death of a Kinsman,” “To 
Anne,” and “Flowers in Ashes.” The following additional 
poems deserve mention : “Ahab Mohammed,” “A May 
Morning,” “Love’s Heraldry,” “The Book of Nature,” “A 
Wreck,” “The Rising of the River,” “Loquitur Diana,” “The 
Welcome Rain,” “Why She Loves Me,” “The Two Givers.” 
The title-piece, “Orta-Undis” (meaning sprung from water) 
is a short poem in Latin at the end of the volume. 

THE EEAPEE. 

(From Orta-Undis and Other Poems, 1847. 1 ) 

How still Earth lies! — behind the pines 
The summer clouds sink slowly down, 

The sunset gilds the higher hills 
And distant steeples of the town. 

Refreshed and moist the meadow spreads, 

Birds sing from out the dripping leaves, 

And standing in the breast-high corn 
I see the farmer bind his sheaves. 

*For the loan of this rare volume the author is indebted to Miss Ellen M. Fitz- 
Simons, of the Charleston Library. 


250 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


It was when on the fallow fields 
The heavy frosts of winter lay, 

A rustic with unsparing hand 

Strewed seed along the furrowed way. 

And I too, walking through the waste 
And wintry hours of the past, 

Have in the furrows made by griefs 
The seeds of future harvests cast, 

Rewarded well, if when the world 
Grows dimmer in the ebbing light, 
And all the valley lies in shade, 

But sunset glimmers on the height. 

Down in the meadows of the heart 
The birds sing out a last refrain, 

And ready garnered for the mart 
I see the ripe and golden grain. 


TO A LILY. 

(From the same.) 

Go bow thy head in gentle spite, 

Thou lily white. 

For she, who spies thee waving here, 
With thee in beauty can compare 
As day with night. 

Soft are thy leaves and white : Her arms 
Boast whiter charms. 

Thy stem prone bent with loveliness 
Of maiden grace possesseth less; 

Therein she charms. 

Thou in thy lake dost see 
Thyself: — So she 
Beholds her image in her eyes 
Reflected. Thus did Yenus rise 
From out the sea. 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGARfi 


251 


Inconsolate, bloom not again, 

Thou rival vain 

Of her whose charms have thine outdone : 
Whose purity might spot the sun, 

And make thy leaf a stain. 


HAW-BLOSSOMS. 

(From the same.) 

While yester-evening, through the vale 
Descending from my cottage door 

I strayed, how cool and fresh a look 
All nature wore. 

The calmias and golden-rods 
And tender blossoms of the haw, 

Like maidens seated in the wood, 
Demure, I saw. 

The recent drops upon their leaves 
Shone brighter than the bluest eyes ; 

And filled the little sheltered dell 
Their fragrant sighs. 

Their pliant arms they interlaced, 

As pleasant canopies they were : 

Their blossoms swung against my cheek 
Like braids of hair. 

And when I put their boughs aside 
And stooped to pass, from overhead 

The little agitated things 
A shower shed 

Of tears. Then thoughtfully I spoke ; 
Well represent ye maidenhood, 

Sweet flowers. Life is to the young 
A shady wood. 


252 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


And therein some like golden-rods, 

For grosser purposes designed, 

A gay existence lead, but leave 
No germ behind. 

And others like the calmias, 

On cliff-sides inaccessible, 

Bloom paramount, the vale with sweets 
Yet never fill. 

But underneath the glossy leaves, 

When, working out the perfect law, 
The blossoms white and fragrant still 
Drop from the haw; 

Like worthy deeds in silence wrought 
And secret, through the lapse of years, 
In clusters pale and delicate 
The fruit appears. 

In clusters pale and delicate 
By waxing heavier each day, 

Until the many-colored leaves 
Drift from the spray. 

Then pendulous, like amethysts 
And rubies, purple ripe and red, 
Wherewith God’s feathered pensioners 
In flocks are fed. 

Therefore, sweet reader of this rhyme, 

Be unto thee examples high 
Not calmias and golden-rods 
That scentless die: 

But the meek blossoms of the haw, 

That fragrant are wherever wind 
The forest paths, and perishing 
Leave fruits behind. 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGARfi 


253 


TALLULAH. 

(From the same.) 

Recollectest thou, in thunder 
How Tallulah spoke to thee, 

When thy little face with wonder 
Lifted upwards, rocks asunder 
Riven, shattered, 

Black and battered, 

Thou aloft didst see? 

Downward stalking through Tempesta, 
Did a giant shape appear. 

All the waters leaping after 
Hound-like with their thunder-laughter 
Shook the valley 
Teocalli, 

Hill-top bleak and bare. 

Vast and ponderous, of granite, 

Cloud enwrapt his features were. 

In his great calm eyes emotion 
Glimmered none; and like an ocean 
Billowy, tangled, 

Foam bespangled 
Backward streamed his hair. 

On his brow like dandelions 
Nodded pines : the solid floor 
Rocked and reeled beneath his treading, 
Black on high a tempest spreading, 
Pregnant, passive, 

As with massive 
Portal, closed the corridor. 

Frightened, sobbing, clinging to me 
In an agony of dread, 

Sawest thou this form tremendous 
Striding down the steep stupendous 
With the torrent: 

Night abhorrent 
Closing overhead. 


254 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Then my heart dissembling courage, 
That thine own so loudly beat. 

Comfort thee, I said, poor trembler : 

Providence is no dissembler. 

Higher power 
Guards each flower 
Blooming at thy feet. 

Flushed and tearful from my bosom 
Thereat thou didst lift thy face. 

Blue and wide thy eyes resplendent, 

Turned upon thy phantom pendent, 
Whose huge shadow 
Overshadowed 
All the gloomy place. 

Then sonorous from the chasm 
Pealed a voice distinct and loud : 

“Innocence and God-reliance 

Set all evil at defiance. 

Maiden, by these, 

As by snow, trees, 

Evil heads are bowed.” 


ON THE DEATH OF A KINSMAN . 1 
(From the same.) 

I see an eagle winging to the sun — 

Who sayeth him nay? 

He glanceth down from where his wing hath won 
His heart is stout, his flight is scarce begun, — 

Oh hopes of clay! 

Saw he not how upon the cord was lain 
A keen swift shaft; 

How Death wrought out in every throbbing vein, 
In every after agony of pain, 

His bitter craft ! 


^ugh Swinton Legare. 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGARfb 


255 


Like old Demetrius, the sun had he 
Beheld so long, 

Now things of earth no longer could he see, 

And in his ear sang Immortality 
A pleasant song. 

Icarus-like, he fell when warm and near 
The sunshine smiled : 

He rose strong-pinioned in his high career — 

Thy dust remains, thy glorious spirit where, 
Minerva’s child? 

Therefore him Fame had written fair and high 
Upon her scroll, 

Who fell like sudden meteor from the sky, 

Who strenuous to win at last did die 
E’en at the goal. 


TO ANNE 1 
(From the same.) 

Disconsolate and ill at ease 
The heart that is, a future sees 
Affording naught to cheer or please. 

But she that owns a quiet mind 
To good or evil fate resigned, 

No great unhappiness can find 

In any lot. A child in years, 

Already have maturer cares 
Oppressed thee, and thy eyes to tears 

No strangers are. Fair, fresh, and young, 
Thrice bitterly thy heart was wrung. 

For what had they to do with thee, 

In thy spring days, despondency, 

Or any woful mysteries? 


x The poet’s wife. 


256 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

Yet when thy eyes were no more blind 
With weeping, self-possessed, resigned, 
Preeminent arose thy mind. 

And resolute in doing well, 

Didst henceforth teach thy breast to swell 
With nought that maiden will could quell. 

Thou sawest how man breathes a day 
Before re-mingling with his clay: 

How feeble in Almighty ken 
The most omnipotent of men 

Appears: And how the longest life 
Is one short struggle in the strife 

That rocks the world from age to age. 
What worthy hand may write the page 

Whose Alexandrine words unbind 
Thy upwardly directed mind? 

One beat triumphant of the wings, 

And dust no more about thee clings, 

And all the galaxy of things 

Intangible and vast, expand, 

So that thou mayest safely stand 
On hitherto a quaking sand. 

Yet must this excellence be wrought 
Not by companionship with thought 

Alone: By tracing down the stream 
Of life, the glitter of a dream: 

By repetition vain of creeds : 

No, — it is by thy deeds — thy deeds. 

The flowers will o’ertop the weeds 


JAMES MATHEWES LEGAEfi 


257 


In thy God’s-garden. Cheerfully 
Do that allotted is to thee, 

And fashion out thy destiny ; 

So that the tomb-doors may not be 
Dreaded and dark, but ope to thee 
A heaven far as thou can’st see. 


FLOWERS IN ASHES. 

(From the same.) 

Where, with unruffled surface wide, 

The waters of the river glide 

Between the arches dimly in the early dawn descried ; 

While musing, Sweet, of thee, — once more 
I crossed the bridge as oft of yore, 

I saw a shallop issue from the shadow of the shore. 

With practised ease the boatman stood, 

And dipped his paddle in the flood: 

And so the open space was gained, and left behind the wood. 

The dripping blade, with measured stroke, 

In ripples soft the surface broke; 

As once Apollo, kissing oft, the nymph Cyrene woke. 

And fast pursuing in his wake, 

I heard the dimpling eddies break 

In murmurs faint, as if they said — Herefrom example take. 

Unruffled as this river, lies 

The stream of life to youthful eyes ; 

On either bank a wood and mart, and overhead God’s skies. 

Behind slopes the pleasant shore, 

The tumult of the town before, 

And thou, who standest in the stern, hast in thy hand an oar. 


258 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


Oh son of toil, whose poet’s heart 
Grieves from thy quiet woods to part, 

And yet whose birthright high it is, to labor in the mart, 

To thee, a child, the bloom was sweet; 

But manhood loves the crowded street, [beat. 

And where in closes, loud and clear, the forging hammers 

But even there may bloom for thee 
The blossoms childhood loved to see; 

And in the cinders of thy toil, God’s fairest flowers be. 




FRANCIS LIEBER 


259 


FRANCIS LIEBER 

Francis Lieber was born at Berlin, March 28, 1800; died 
at New York, October 2, 1872. He fought in the Prussian 
army at Waterloo in 1815, was imprisoned for liberalism 
in Berlin, and was forbidden the Prussian universities, but 
graduated at Jena. He took refuge in England in 1825, and 
in 1827 emigrated to America, where he engaged in literary 
work and in lecturing. In 1832 he drew up the plan of 
education for Girard College. From 1835 until 1856 he was 
professor of history and political economy in South Carolina 
College, serving as chairman of the faculty from 1851 to 
1856. In 1856 he accepted the same chair in Columbia Col- 
lege, New York. He superintended the collection and 
arranging of the Confederate government records in 1865. 
In 1870 he acted as final arbitrator of the dispute between 
the United States and Mexico. 

He was the author of Manual of Political Ethics, 1838; 
Essays on Property and Labor, 1842; Legal and Political 
Hermeneutics, 1839 ; The West, and Other Poems, 1848 ; and 
Civil Liberty and Self-Government, 1853. “It was at Colum- 
bia,” says Dr. Colyer Meriwether, “that his great works were 
produced. The germs of one of them were probably in his 
mind before going there, but the others were entirely the 
product of this scholastic leisure.” 

VOX POPULI VOX DEI. 

(From Civil Liberty and Self-Government, 1853.) 

The maxim Vox Populi Vox Dei is so closely connected 
with the subjects which we have been examining, and it is 
so often quoted on grave political occasions, that it appears 
to me proper to conclude this work with an inquiry into the 
validity of this stately saying. Its poetic boldness and epi- 
grammatic finish, its Latin and lapidary formulation, and 
its apparent connection of a patriotic love of the people 


260 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


with religious fervor, give it an air of authority and almost 
of sacredness. Yet history, as well as our own times, shows 
us that everything depends upon the question of who are 
the “people,” and that even if we have fairly ascertained 
the legitimate sense of this great yet absurd term, we fre- 
quently find that their voice is anything rather than the 
voice of God. 

If the term people is used for a clamoring crowd, which is 
not even a constituted part of an organic whole, we would 
be still more fatally misled by taking the clamor for the voice 
of the deity. We shall arive, then, at this conclusion, that 
in no case can we use the maxim as a test, for, even if we call 
the people’s voice the voice of God in those cases in which 
the people demand that which is right, we must first know 
that they do so before we could call it the voice of God. It 
is no guiding authority; it can sanction nothing. 

“The chief priests, and the rulers, and the people,” cried 
out all at once, “Crucify him, crucify him!” Were then “the 
rulers and the people” not the populace? But their voice 
was assuredly not the vox Dei in this case. If populus means 
the constituted people speaking through the organs and in 
the forms of law, the case of Socrates arises at once in our 
mind. It was the people of Athens, speaking by their con- 
stituted authorities, that bade him drink the hemlock ; yet it 
would be blasphemy to say that it was the voice of God that 
spoke in this case through the mouth of the Athenians. Was 
it the voice of the people, and, through it, the voice of God, 
which demanded the sway of the guillotine in the first French 
revolution? . 

How shall we ascertain, in modern times, whether any- 
thing be the voice of the people? And next, whether that 
voice be the voice of God, so that it may command respect? 
For, unless we can do this, the whole maxim amounts to no 
more than a poetic sentence expressing the opinion of an 
individual, but no rule, no canon. 

Is it unanimity that indicates the voice of the people? 
Unanimity in this case can mean only a very large majority. 
But even unanimity is commanding only when it is the result 
of digested and organic public opinion, and even then, we 
know perfectly well that it may be erroneous and conse- 


FRANCIS LIEBER 


261 


quently not the voice of God, but simply the best opinion 
at which erring and sinful men at the time are able to 
arrive. 

Unanimity of itself proves nothing worth being proved for 
our purpose. In considering unanimity, the first subject 
that presents itself to us is that remarkable phenomenon 
called Fashion. . . . Though the head may wear a 

crown, Fashion puts her shears to its hair, if she has a mind 
to do so. Far more powerful than international law, which 
only rules between nations, she brings innumerable nations 
into one fold, and that frequently the fold of acknowledged 
folly. How can we explain this stupendous phenomenon? 
It is not necessary to do so here. The fact, however, must be 
acknowledged. It is the most remarkable instance of una- 
nimity, but will any one say that Fashion is a vox Dei? The 
very question would be irreverent were it not candidly made 
in a philosophical spirit. . 

If we carefully view the subject of unanimity, we shall 
find that in the cases in which vast action takes place by 
impelled masses — and it is in these cases that the maxim is 
invoked — error is as frequently the basis as truth. It is 
panic, fanaticism, revenge, lust of gain, and hatred of races 
that produce most of the sudden and comprehensive impulses. 
Truth travels slowly. Indeed, all essential progress is typi- 
fied in the twelve humble men that followed Christ. The 
voice of God was not then the voice of the people. What 
the ancients said of the avenging gods, that they are shod 
with wool, is true of great ideas in history. They approach 
softly. Great truths always dwell a long time with small 
minorities, and the real voice of God is often that which rises 
above the masses, and not that which follows them. 

But the difficulty of fixing the meaning of this saying is not 
restricted to that of ascertaining what is the voice of God. 
It is equally difficult to find out what is the voice of the 
people. If by the voice of the people be meant, as was stated 
before, the organically evolved opinion of a people, we do not 
stand in need of the saying. We know we ought to obey the 
laws of the land. If by the voice of the people be meant the 
result of universal suffrage without institutions, and 
especially in a large country with a powerful executive, not 


18 — W. 


262 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


permitting even preparatory discussion, it is an empty 
phrase; it is deceptive, or it may be the effect of vehement 
yet transitory excitement, or of a political fashion. The 
same is true when the clamoring expression of many is taken 
for the voice of the whole people. 

The doctrine Vox populi vox Dei is essentially unrepub- 
lican, as the doctrine that the people may do what they list 
under the constitution, above the constitution, and against 
the constitution, is an open avowal of disbelief in self-gov- 
ernment. 

The true friend of freedom does not wish to be insulted by 
the supposition that he believes each human individual an 
erring man, and that nevertheless the united clamor of erring 
men has a character of divinity about it; nor does he desire 
to be told that the voice of the people, though legitimately 
and institutionally proclaimed and justly commanding 
respect and obedience, is divine on that account. He knows 
that the majority may err, and that he has the right and 
often the duty to use his whole energy to convince them of 
their error, and lawfully to bring about a different set of 
laws. The true and stanch republican wants liberty, but no 
deification either of himself or others; he wants a firmly 
built self-government and noble institutions, but no abso- 
lutism of any sort — none to practise on others, and none to 
be practised on himself. 


JOHN HENEY LOGAN 


263 


JOHN HENRY LOGAN 

John Heney Logan was born in South Carolina in 1822, 
and died in 1885. He was a physician and at one time held 
a professorship in a medical college at Atlanta. He was 
the author of three volumes : a Students’ Manual of Chemico- 
Physics, A Digest of the Negro Law, and a History of the 
Upper Country of South Carolina, 1859. 

HABITS OF THE CAEOLINA PANTHEE . 1 

(From History of the Upper Country of South Carolina, 1859.) 

After the Indians, the most troublesome enemies with 
which the early settlers had to contend were the panther, 
wolf, and wild cat. They prowled around their houses at 
night, and so frequent were their onslaughts on the folds and 
poultry yards, that it was difficult for them to keep any 
domestic animals at all. 

The panther, although by nature cowardly, and always 
ready to flee at the sight of any human being, yet when 
wounded or pressed by hunger, became exceedingly bold and 
ferocious. While hunting its prey it was not unfrequently 
known to leap fearlessly into the very midst of the pioneer’s 
households. We were shown near the Ennoree, on a part of 
the very scene, where in after years the gallant Williams and 
Clark charged with fearful energy upon far different prey, 
the site of a ruined cabin through the door of which a 
panther, one night, leaped over the shoulders of one Mrs. 
Ford. 

This animal, when thoroughly aroused, was undoubtedly 
more formidable than any other in all this portion of the 
American continent. The Indians called it the cat of God , 
and selected it as one of their great religious emblems. Their 
male children were made to sleep upon its skin, from infancy 
to manhood, that they might imbibe from it some portion of 
the cunning, strength, and prodigious spring of the animal 


x For this selection the author is indebted to Mr. Ambrose E. Gonzales. 


264 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


to which it belonged. On the same principle their female 
offspring were reared on the soft skins of fawns and buffalo 
calves, that they might become gentle and obedient. 

The panther has borne different names among the white 
settlers who took possession of his solitudes. He has been 
called the American lion, the tiger, and cougar; and his 
claims to be ranked with the king of beasts, or the great tiger 
of India, will hardly be disputed on the score of deficiency of 
size and strength, when it is related that individuals have 
been killed, in the woods of Carolina, measuring three feet 
in height, and eight feet from the tip of the nose to the root 
of the tail. Audubon fixes his average weight at one hundred 
and fifty pounds. His body was larger than the common 
sheep, and when seen in the forest appeared precisely of the 
same color with the Virginia deer. 

The usual cry of the panther when prowling in the woods, 
was exceedingly melancholy, and so nearly resembling the 
distressed wail of an infant, as to be sometimes mistaken for 
that of a child lost in the forest, even by those accustomed 
to his habits. 

It is related of a Miss Sally Whitaker, of whose heroism 
and romantic wanderingn on the singular mountain, in York 
District, that still bears her name, we found some traditions, 
that on one occasion when strolling along the mountain, she 
caught, as she imagined, the sound of a child’s cry in the 
distance; all her sympathies were instantly aroused, and 
quickening her pace in the direction whence it came, she 
found it grew rapidly more and more distinct, till, at last, 
it seemed to proceed from a covert near at hand ; she pressed 
forward with increased eagerness, and drawing aside the 
intervening grass and bushes, discovered — not a child — but 
face to face with her, a large American lion. It is not related 
how she extricated herself from the dilemma, but the asser- 
tion may be ventured that the panther scampered off as fast 
as his legs could carry him, while Sally Whitaker neither 
fainted on the spot nor ran off in the opposite direction. 


AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET 


265 


AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET 

Augustus Baldwin Longstreet was born of Dutch stock, 
according to his own statement, in Edgefield District, South 
Carolina, but according to Appleton’s Cyclopedia at Au- 
gusta, Georgia, September 22, 1790, and died at Oxford, 
Mississippi, July 19, 1870. His father, William Longstreet, 
a native of New Jersey, invented the steamboat simulta- 
neously with Fulton and made a successful trial on the 
Savannah River, but never reaped any profit from his inven- 
tion. His son, after graduating at Yale in 1813, studied law 
in Connecticut and was admitted to the bar in 1815. In 1817 
he went to Greensboro, Georgia, for the practice of his pro- 
fession, became an ardent politician, and in a few years was 
elected to the legislature and received a commission as a 
circuit judge. Removing to Augusta, he established The 
Sentinel, and collected into a volume his humorous news- 
paper sketches under the title of Georgia Scenes, Characters, 
Incidents, etc., in the First Half Century of the Republic. 
This famous book attained an immense popularity, and 
several editions were brought out by the Harpers between 
1840 and 1867. It is an amusing and valuable description 
of life among the poorer classes of the population and was 
a prototype of the broadly humorous sketches and stories 
of Baldwin, Thompson, Hooper, Lamar, and Jones in ante- 
bellum times and of Harris and Johnston at a later period. 
In 1838, Judge Longstreet became a Methodist minister. 
Having devoted himself to educational work, for which he 
was peculiarly fitted, he held the presidency successively of 
Emory College, Georgia; Centenary College, Louisiana; the 
University of Mississippi, and of South Carolina College, 
where he was at the outbreak of the war. In 1849 he began 
a novel called Master William Mitten, which was not pub- 
lished until 1864. As a writer he had command of a fluent 
and idiomatic, though distinctly impromptu style. 


266 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


DR. MOSES WADDEL . 1 

(From Master William Mitten, 1864.) 

Dr. Waddel was about five feet nine inches high; of stout 
muscular frame, and a little inclined to corpulency. In limb, 
nearly perfect. His head was uncommonly large, and covered 
with a thick coat of dark hair. His forehead was projecting, 
and in nothing else more remarkable. His eyes were grey, 
and overshadowed by thick, heavy eye-brows, always closely 
knit in his calmest hours, and almost over lapping in his 
angry moods. His nose was bluntly acquiline. His lips were 
rather thick, and generally closely compressed. His com- 
plexion was slightly adust. His tout ensemble was, as we 
have said, extremely austere; but it was false to his heart; 
for he was benevolent, affectionate, charitable, hospitable, 
and kind. He was cheerful, and even playful, in his disposi- 
tion. Good boys felt at perfect ease in his presence, and even 
bad ones could, and did, approach him with the utmost free- 
dom. He never whipt in a passion — indeed, he seemed to be 
in his most pleasant moods when he administered correction, 
and hence, a stranger to him would naturally suppose that 
he took pleasure in flogging. It was not so, however. He 
hardly ever whipt, but upon the report of a monitor; and 
after a year or two from Master Mitten’s introduction to 
him, very rarely, but upon a verdict of a jury of students. 
His government was one of touching “moral suasion”; but 
he administered it in a new way. Instead of infusing it 
gently into the head and heart, and letting it percolate 
through the system, and slowly neutralize the ill humors 
with which it came in contact, he applied it to the extrem- 
ities, and drove it right up into the head and heart by per- 
cussion. He seemed to regard vices as consuming fires, and 

!Dr. Moses Waddel (1770-1840), the great teacher and Presbyterian clergyman, 
fcras a native of Rowan County, North Carolina, and a graduate of Hampden- 
Sidney College. His famous school at Willington, in Abbeville County, South 
Carolina, was established in 1804, and continued till 1819, when its master became 
president of the University of Georgia. He has been called by Grayson “the Caro- 
lina Dr. Arnold,” and among the distinguished men prepared by him for college 
may be mentioned John C. Calhoun, W. H. Crawford, Hugh S. Legare, Judge Long- 
street, George McDuffie, James L. Petigru, and Chancellor Wardlaw. Calhoun says, 
“He may be justly considered as the father of classical education in the upper 
country of South Carolina and Georgia.” 


AUGUSTUS BALDWIN LONGSTREET 


267 


he adopted the engine process of extinguishing them. One 
would suppose that moral reforms so hastily produced could 
not last; but we have living cases to prove that they have 
lasted for fifty-three years, and are still fresh and vigorous. 
It is a very remarkable fact that Doctor Waddel never 
flogged a boy for a deficient lesson. To be “turned off,” as it 
was called — that is, to have to get a lesson over a second 
time, was considered such a disgrace by the students, that 
if this did not cure the fault, whipping, he well knew, would 
not. He would often mount his horse at eight o’clock at 
night, and visit the students at their boarding houses. Some- 
times he would visit them incognito, and recount his observa- 
tions the next day to the whole school, commending such 
youths as he found well employed, and censuring such as he 
found ill employed. And what were the fruits of this rigid 
but equitable discipline? From under the teachings of this 
man have gone forth one vice-president, and many foreign 
and cabinet ministers ; and senators, congressmen, governors, 
judges, presidents and professors of colleges, eminent divines, 
barristers, jurists, legislators, physicians, scholars, military 
and naval officers innumerable. 


THE WELLINGTON ACADEMY. 

(From the same.) 

They set forward, and at the distance of about two hun- 
dred and fifty yards from Mr. Newby’s premises they entered 
a street, shaded by majestic oaks, and composed entirely of 
log huts, varying in size from six to sixteen feet square. 
The truth of history demands that we should say that there 
was but one of the smallest size just indicated, and that was 
the whimsical structure of a very whimsical fellow hy the 
name of Dredzel Pace. It was endangered by fire once, and 
four stout students took it up by the corners and removed it 
to a place of safety. 

The street was about forty yards wide, and its length was 
perhaps double its width; and yet the houses on either side 
did not number more than ten or twelve; of course, there- 


268 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


fore, they stood generally in very open order. They were all 
built by the students or by architects of their hiring. They 
served for studyhouses in cold or rainy weather, though the 
students were allowed to study where they pleased within 
convenient reach of the monitors. The common price of a 
building, on front row , water proof, and easily chinked, was 
five dollars. The chinking was generally removed in summer 
for ventilation. In the suburbs, were several other buildings 
of the same kind, erected by literary recluses, we suppose, 
who could not endure the din of the city at play-time — at 
play-time, we say, for there was no din in it in study hours. 
At the head of the street, eastward, stood the Academy, dif- 
fering in nothing from the other buildings but in size and 
the number of its rooms. It had two; the smaller devoted 
to a primary school of a few boys and girls, over which Moses 
Waddel Dobbins, a nephew of the Rector, presided. These 
soon left, and Mr. Dobbins became assistant-general to his 
uncle. The larger was the recitation room of Mr. Waddel 
himself, the prayer room, court room, and general convo- 
cation room for all matters concerning the school. It was 
without seats, and just large enough to contain one hundred 
and fifty boys standing erect, close pressed, and leave a circle 
of six feet diameter at the door, for jigs and cotillions at the 
teacher’s regular soirees, every Monday morning. 

A delightful spring gushed from the foot of the hill on 
which the school-house stood, and, at the distance of but a 
few paces, poured its waters into a lovely brook which wound 
through a narrow plain covered with stately beeches. Ven- 
erable old chroniclers of revered names and happy days, 
where are ye! It was under the canopy of these beautiful 
ornaments of the forest, by the side of that whispering brook, 
that we felt the first gleam of pleasure that we ever derived 
from anything in Latin. And here are the words which 
awakened it : 

“Tityre tu patulae recubans sub tegmine fagi, 
Rilvestrem tenui musam meditaris arena ” 


LOUISA SUSANNAH Jr CORD 


269 


LOUISA SUSANNAH McGORD 

Louisa Susannah McCord was born at Columbia, South 
Carolina, December 3, 1810, and died at Charleston, Novem- 
ber 27, 1880. She was a daughter of the distinguished jurist 
and statesman, Langdon Cheves. She received her education 
in her native city and in Philadelphia. In 1840 she was 
married to Colonel David James McCord, at one time law- 
partner of William C. Preston and widely known by his 
Eeports in Law and in Equity, and his Statutes at Large 
of South Carolina. They resided a portion of each year on 
their plantation “Langsyne,” near Fort Motte on the Con- 
garee. A friend quoted by Miss Louise Manly in her 
Southern Literature, said of her, “Mrs. McCord herself illus- 
trates her views of female life by her own daily example. 
She conducts the hospital on her own large plantation, 
attends to the personal wants of the negroes, and on one occa- 
sion perfectly set a fracture of a broken arm. Thoroughly 
accomplished in the modern languages of Europe, she em- 
ploys her leisure in the education of her children.” Her 
husband died in 1855. During the war she devoted herself 
with heroic energy and unselfish devotion to the cause of 
Southern independence. 

Mrs. McCord was the author of two volumes : My Dreams, 
a collection of lyrical and other poems, 1848; and Caius 
Gracchus, a tragedy, 1851. In 1848 she published a trans- 
lation of Bastiat’s Sophisms of the Protective Policy. She 
contributed many articles on social and economic questions 
to The Southern Quarterly Review, DeBow’s Review, and 
The Southern Literary Messenger, all of which were charac- 
terized by vigor of style and independence of thought. 


270 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE VOICE OF YEARS. 

(From My Dreams, 1848.) 

It floated by, on the passing breeze, 

The voice of years : 

It breathed o’er ocean, it wandered through earth, 
It spoke of the time when words had birth, 

When the spirit of God moved over the sea; 
When earth was only a thing — to be, 

And it sighed, as it passed on that passing breeze, 
The voice of years. 


From ocean it came on a murmuring wave, 

The voice of years : 

And it spoke of the time ere the birth of light; 
When earth was hushed ’neath the ocean’s might, 
And the waters rolled, and the dashing roar 
Of the angered surge owned not yet the power, 
Which whispers in that murmuring wave, 

The voice of years. 


From earth it came, from her inmost deep, 

The voice of years : 

It murmured forth with the bubbling stream, 
It came like the sound of a long-past dream — 
And it spoke of the hour ere Time had birth, 
When living thing moved not yet on earth, 
And, solemnly sad, it rose from the deep ; 

The voice of years. 


From heaven it came, on a beam of light, 

The voice of years : 

And it spoke of a God who reigned alone, 

Who waked the stars, who lit the sun. 

As it glanced o’er mountain, and river, and wood, 
It spoke of the good and the wonderful God; 

And it whispered to praise that God of Light, 

The voice of years. 


LOUISA SUSANNAH M’CORD 


271 


It howled in the storm as it threatening passed, 
The voice of years : 

And it spoke of ruin, and fiercest might ; 

Of angry fiends, and of things of night ; 

But raging, as o’er the Earth it strode, 

I knelt and I prayed to the merciful God, 

And methought it less angrily howled as it passed, 
The voice of years. 


And it came from yon moss-grown ruin gray, 

The voice of years : 

And it spoke of myself, and the years that were gone, 
Of hopes that were blighted, and joys which were flown, 
Of the wreck of so much that was bright and was fair ; 
And it made me sad, and I wept to hear, 

As it came from yon moss-grown ruin gray, 

The voice of years. 

And it rose from the grave with the song of death, 

The voice of years : 

And I shuddered to hear the tale it told, 

Of blighted youth, and hearts grown cold; 

And anguish and sorrow which crept to the grave 
To take from the spoiler the wound that he gave, 

And sadly it rose from that home of death, 

The voice of years. 


But again it passed on the passing breeze, 

The voice of years : 

And it spoke of a God, who watched us here, 
Who heard the sigh, and who saw the tear ; 
And it spoke of mercy, and not of woe ; 

There was love and hope in its whispering low ; 
And I listened to catch, on that passing breeze, 
The voice of years. 


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THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


And it spoke of a pain that might not last, 

That voice of years : 

And it taught me to think that the God who gave 
The breath of life, could wake from the grave ; 

And it taught me to see that this beautiful earth 
Was not only made to give sorrow birth; 

And it whispered, that mercy must reign at last, 

That voice of years. 

And strangely methought, as it floated by, 

That voice of years 

Seemed fraught with a tone from some higher sphere, 
It whispered around me, that God was near; 

He spoke from the sunbeam, He spoke from the wave, 
He spoke from the ruin, He spoke from the grave, 
’Twas the voice of God, as it floated by, 

That voice of years. 


EDWARD M’CRADY 


273 


EDWARD McGRADY 

Edward McCrady was born at Charleston in 1833, and 
died there in 1904. He received his preparatory training in 
the private schools of his native city, and graduated at the 
College of Charleston in 1853. He then studied law and 
was admitted to the bar in 1855. He married Mary Fraser 
Davie in 1863. During the war of secession he was com- 
missioned as captain of State troops, took part in the opera- 
tions around Charleston, and was promoted to the rank of 
major. Having been wounded, he was placed in command 
of the camp of instruction at Madison, Florida. After the 
war he served as major-general of the State national guard. 
He was a member of the legislature from 1880 to 1890. He 
served for many years with distinction as professor of his- 
tory in the State Military Academy in Charleston. He was 
also president of the Historical Society of South Carolina. 

General McCrady was the author of the History of South 
Carolina Under the Proprietary Government, 1897 ; History 
of South Carolina Under the Royal Government, 1899; 
History of South Carolina in the Revolution, 2 vols., 1900- 
1902 ; Slavery in the Province of South Carolina ; Historical 
Sketch of St. Phillip’s Church, 1896 ; Education in South 
Carolina Prior to and During the Revolution, 1883, etc. 

THE BATTLE OP KING’S MOUNTAIN . 1 

(From The History of South Carolina in the Revolution, 1901.) 

When the Whig patriots came near the mountain they 
halted, dismounted, fastened their loose baggage to their 
saddles, tied their horses and left them under charge of a few 
men detailed for the purpose, and then prepared for an imme- 
diate attack. . . . The army was divided into two 

wings. The right center and right flank columns, numbering 
together 440, were under the direction of Colonel Cleveland. 

iThis selection is published by the kind permission of the Macmillan Company, 
New York. 


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THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


The two wings were thus very nearly equal in strength. The 
plan of battle was that the two wings should approach upon 
opposite sides of the mountain and thus encompass the 
enemy. Cleveland’s and Sevier’s columns united at the 
northeast end of the ridge, Campbell’s and Shelby’s closing 
together at the southwest. 

Before taking up the line of march, Campbell and the 
leading officers appealed to their soldiers, to the highest 
instincts of their natures, by all that was patriotic and noble 
among men, to fight like heroes, and give not an inch of 
ground save only from the sheerest necessity, and then only 
to retrace and recover their lost ground at the earliest pos- 
sible moment; Campbell personally visited all the corps and 
said to Cleveland’s men, as he did to all, that if any of them, 
men or officers, were afraid, he advised them to quit the ranks 
and go home ; that he wished no man to engage in the action 
who could not fight; that as for himself, he was determined 
to fight the enemy a week, if need be, to gain the victory. 
Colonel Campbell also gave the necessary orders to all the 
principal officers, and repeated them so as to be heard by a 
large portion of the line, and then placed himself at the head 
of his own regiment, as the other officers did at the head 
of their respective commands. Many of the men threw aside 
their hats, tying handkerchiefs around their heads so as to 
be less likely to be retarded by limbs and bushes when dash- 
ing up the mountain. . . . From the nature of the 

ground and thick intervening foliage of the trees, the Whigs 
were not discovered by Ferguson till within a quarter of a 
mile, when his drums beat to arms, and his shrill whistle, 
with which he was wont to summon his men to battle and 
inspire them with his own courage, was heard everywhere 
over the mountain. 

The right and left wings had been cautioned that the action 
was not to be commenced until the centre columns were 
ready for the attack. These were to give the signal by raising 
a frontier warwhoop, after the manner of the Indians, and 
then to rush forward to the attack. Upon hearing the battle 
shout and the reports of the rifles, the right and left wings 
were to join in the affray. The first firing was made by the 
enemy upon Shelby’s column before they were in position to 


EDWARD MXRADY 


275 


engage in the action. It was galling in its effect, and not a 
little annoying to the mountaineers, some of whom in their 
impatience complained that it would never do to be shot 
down without returning the fire ; but Shelby restrained them. 
“Press on to your places,” he said, “and then your fire will 
not be lost.” 

Before Shelby’s men could gain their position, Colonel 
Campbell had thrown off his coat ; and, while leading his men 
to the attack, he exclaimed at the top of his voice, “Here 
they are, my brave boys; Shout like h — l , and fight like 
devils !” The woods immediately resounded with the shouts 
of the line, in which they were heartily joined, first by 
Shelby’s corps, and then the cry was caught up and ran along 
the two wings. Draper relates that when Captain de Peyster 
heard these almost deafening yells, — the same he too well 
remembered hearing from Shelby at Musgrove’s Mills, — he 
remarked to Ferguson, “These things are ominous ; these are 
the d — d yelling boys!” Ferguson was himself dismayed 
when he heard them. 

The part of the mountain where Campbell’s men ascended 
to attack was rough and craggy, the most difficult of ascent 
of any part of the ridge; but these resolute mountaineers 
permitted no obstacle to prevent their advance, creeping up 
the acclivity little by little, from tree to tree, till they were 
nearly at the top. The Virginians thus securing the summit 
of the hill, the battle became general. None of the Whigs 
were longer under the restraint of military discipline ; some 
were on horseback, some were on foot; some behind trees, 
others exposed ; but all were animated with enthusiasm. The 
Virginians were the first against whom Ferguson ordered a 
charge of the bayonets by his Rangers and a part of his Loy- 
alists. Some of them obstinately stood their ground till a 
few were thrust through the body; but without bayonets 
themselves, with only their rifles to withstand such a charge, 
the Virginians broke and fled down the mountain. They 
were soon rallied, however, by their gallant commander and 
some of his more active officers, and by a constant and well- 
directed fire of their rifles they in turn drove back Ferguson’s 
men, and again reached the summit of the mountain. The 
mountain was covered with flame and smoke, and seemed 


276 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


to thunder. The shouts of the mountaineers, the noise of 
hundreds of rifles and muskets, the loud commands and en- 
couraging words of the officers, with every now and then the 
shrill screech of Ferguson’s silver whistle high above the din 
and confusion of the battle, intermingled with the groans of 
the wounded in every part of the line, is described as com- 
bining to convey the idea of another pandemonium. . 

But at length the two wings of the mountaineers so pressed 
the enemy on both sides that Ferguson’s men had ample 
employment all around the eminence without being able to 
repair to each other’s relief. The Provincial Bangers and 
the Loyalists, though led by the brave De Peyster, began to 
grow weary and discouraged, steadily decreasing in numbers 
and making no permanent impression upon their tireless 
opponents. From the southwestern portion of the ridge the 
Bangers and Tories began to give way, and were doggedly 
driven by Campbell’s, Shelby’s and Sevier’s men, and perhaps 
others intermingled with them. 

Ferguson, by this time, had been wounded in the hand, 
but he was still in the heat of the battle, and with character- 
istic coolness and daring he ordered De Peyster to reenforce 
a position about one hundred yards distant; but before they 
reached it they were thinned too much by the Whig rifles to 
render any effectual support. He then ordered his cavalry 
to mount, with the intention of making a desperate onset at 
their head. But these only presented a better mark for the 
rifle, and fell as fast as they could mount their horses. He 
rode from end to end of his line, encouraging his men to pro- 
long the conflict, and with his silver whistle in his wounded 
hand, with desperate courage he passed from one exposed 
point to another of equal danger. But the Whigs were grad- 
ually compressing his men, and the Tories began to show 
signs of yielding. They raised a flag in token of surrender. 
Ferguson rode up and cut it down. A second flag was raised 
at the other end of the line. He rode there, too, and cut it 
down with his sword. Captain De Peyster, his second in 
command, convinced from the first of the utter futility of 
resistance upon the position at King’s Mountain selected by 
Ferguson, as soon as he became satisfied that Ferguson would 
not abandon it and attempt to make his way to the relief for 


EDWARD M’CRADY 


277 


which he had sent to Cornwallis, had the courage to advise 
a surrender; but Ferguson’s proud spirit could not deign 
to give up to raw and undisciplined militia. When the second 
flag was cut down De Peyster renewed his advice, but Fer- 
guson declared that he would never surrender to such a d — d 
set of banditti as the mountain men. At length, satisfied that 
all was lost, and firmly resolving not to fall into the hands of 
the despised Backwater men, Ferguson with a few chosen 
friends made a desperate attempt to break through the Whig 
lines on the southeastern side of the mountain and escape. 
With his sword in his left hand, he made a bold dash for 
freedom, cutting and slashing until he broke it. Colonel 
Yesey Husbands, a North Carolina Loyalist, and Major 
Plummer of South Carolina joined Ferguson and charged 
on a part of the line they thought was vulnerable. They all 
fell and perished in the effort. 

Captain De Peyster, who had succeeded Ferguson in com- 
mand, perceiving that further struggle was in vain, raised 
the white flag and asked for quarter. A general cessation of 
the American fire followed; but this cessation was not com- 
plete. 


19-W. 


278 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


GEORGE McDUFFIE 

George McDuffie was born in Columbia County, Georgia, 
in 1790, and died in 1851. His parents were natives of Scot- 
land, who emigrated to America soon after the Revolution. 
He was a student at Willington, the famous academy of Dr. 
Moses Waddel in Abbeville County, S. C. He graduated at 
South Carolina College with the first honor in 1813. His 
graduating speech on the Permanence of the Union was 
printed by request of the students. He then threw himself 
into politics and advanced with great vigor and burning 
eloquence the liberal principles of Calhoun, but later fought 
with equal zeal for the doctrine of nullification. He served 
as a representative in Congress from 1821 to 1834, and was 
then elected Governor of South Carolina. In 1836 he retired 
to the quiet of his home, but was elected to the United States 
Senate in 1842 after a fierce canvass with Colonel William C. 
Preston on the relative merits of the United States Bank 
and the independent treasury. His health gradually gave 
way as the result of a wound which he received in a duel 
with Colonel Cumming of Augusta, and he resigned from the 
Senate in 1846. His Eulogy upon the Life and Character 
of the Late Robert Y. Hayne, delivered on February 13, 1840, 
in the Circular Church at Charleston, is a specimen of his 
more studied and elaborate style, though a speech delivered 
in Congress in 1832 better represents the vehement debater 
with a genius for attack and a master of invective who 
sounded a blast of defiance at an acute parliamentary crisis 
and whose fiery impetuosity swept away the most determined 
opposition. 1 


M^or the material for this sketch and for the selection the author is indebted to 
Dr. Edwin D. Green, who has recently edited two speeches of McDuffie. 


GEORGE MCDUFFIE 


279 


CHARACTER OF ROBERT Y. HAYNE. 

(From the Eulogy of General Robert Y. Hayne, 1840.) 

I have now brought to a close this very imperfect outline 
of his early life and public services. Imperfect as it is, it so 
fully illustrates his character that very little remains but 
to group together that rare combination of high endowments 
and shining virtues disclosed by every page of the narrative 
which make up the portrait of a virtuous man, an incor- 
ruptible patriot, an eloquent orator, and a profound states- 
man. The intellectual endowment that gave to his mind its 
distinctive character was a sound and discriminating judg- 
ment, that great master faculty of the human intellect 
without which all the others, even in the most dazzling com- 
binations of genius, are but wandering exhalations of the 
night, which serve only to bewilder and mislead those who 
commit themselves to their guidance. And when we consider 
that it is very little more than the power of applying the 
principles of common sense to the affairs of human life, 
great and small, in their various changes and combinations, 
it is wonderful to reflect how rarely it is found in those who 
are the rulers of mankind. In our illustrious and lamented 
fellow citizen this cardinal faculty was united with those 
high moral qualities, justice, conscientiousness, firmness, and 
perseverance, which gave a wise direction to its decision and 
energy to their execution. A very long and intimate 
acquaintance justifies me in saying that I never have known 
any public man who more habitually acted under the in- 
fluence of a deep and conscientious sense of the obligations 
of duty. It was, indeed, the governing motive and animating 
principle of his whole conduct. All other, considerations were 
absorbed in it. But it was not so much by any one faculty, 
standing out in prominent relief, as by the admirable adjust- 
ment of all his moral and intellectual qualities, that he was 
distinguished from other men. So harmonious, indeed, were 
these endowments, so perfect was their symmetry, and so 
entirely free from the contrast of opposing qualities, that we 
almost lost sight of each particular trait in our admiration 
of the beautiful and consistent whole. It was this happy 
concord of high moral and intellectual qualities, all acting 


280 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


in concert, and mutually sustaining each other, that ren- 
dered him, in every emergency of his eventful career, in all 
respects equal to the occasion. In a word, they constituted 
wisdom in council and unfaltering wisdom and self-pos- 
session in action — qualities for which few men have been so 
eminently distinguished. Permit me to introduce a testi- 
monial on these points, which every one present will receive 
with respect and confidence. During those fearful scenes 
in this city which followed the proclamation of the President 
of the United States against South Carolina, frequent con- 
sultations were held by the Governor with some of the most 
distinguished of his political friends, to decide upon the 
course proper to be pursued in the probable emergency of an 
attempt to arrest the Governor, or an invasion of South 
Carolina. At these consultations the venerable Judge Col- 
cock, whose loss we so justly deplore, was usually present; 
and speaking to a friend of those trying times some years 
afterwards, he emphatically said : “Hayne is the wisest man I 
ever met in council ; and with all his characteristic prudence 
he never falters where even the bravest might hesitate.” 
High as his intellectual endowments undoubtedly were, his 
moral qualities were still more strikingly developed. He was 
a wise man in the highest sense of the expression. He not 
only possessed the mere intellectual power of adapting his 
means to his ends, but he possessed the still higher quality of 
so directing that power that “all the ends he aimed at were 
his country’s, his God’s, and truth’s.” It resulted from all 
this that his public career was singularly and uniformly 
fortunate, and that his character was never exposed, even 
during the most angry and embittered strife of contending 
parties, to a momentary imputation which could cast the 
slightest blemish on his fame. He was always a popular 
favorite, uniformly retaining the confidence of his fellow 
citizens, though few public men were more perfectly free 
from those vulgar arts and degrading compliances by which 
popularity is but too frequently sought and too frequently 
acquired. And it is a fact every way worthy of being 
recorded to his own honor, and as an example to all youthful 
aspirants after distinction and fame in the service of their 
country, that during his whole career as a public man, com- 


GEORGE MCDUFFIE 


281 


mencing at a very early age, and embracing almost every 
grade of office, civil and military, he never, in a single 
instance, solicited, even in the most indirect manner, the 
suffrage of a fellow citizen. How august would be the 
assemblages of the people to exercise the high prerogative of 
self-government, if all the candidates for their favor would 
follow this noble example! In commending it to the rising 
generation of public men I can confidently assure them that 
it indicates the only certain means of placing their popu- 
larity on the solid foundation of public confidence, which is 
always extended as a voluntary offering to worth and talents, 
the more freely for being unsolicited. 

I have known very few public men who were so entirely 
exempt as he was from the hateful passions of envy towards 
those who might be regarded as his rivals, or malignity 
towards his enemies. To the former he was always generous, 
and to the latter always just and forgiving. Indeed, he felt 
scarcely less interest in the reputation and success of the 
friends with whom he was associated than in his own. In the 
mournful and pleasant recollections of the trying scenes 
through which we had passed together many instances of this 
are revived in my memory. 


282 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


CARLYLE McKINLEY 

Carlyle McKinley was born at Newnan, Coweta County, 
Georgia, November 22, 1847, and died at Mt. Pleasant, in 
Charleston Harbor, August 24, 1904. At the age of fifteen 
he entered the University of Georgia, but soon went to the 
front with the student company, and saw service in the 
battles around Atlanta. After the war he engaged in cotton 
brokerage in Augusta and for a short time held a position in 
the United States Marshal’s office in Savannah. He then 
completed his course at the University, and subsequently 
attended the Presbyterian Theological Seminary at Colum- 
bia, South Carolina, where he graduated in 1874. On account 
of some change in his religious views he conscientiously 
refrained from entering the ministry, and became a teacher 
in Colonel (afterwards Governor) Hugh S. Thompson’s 
famous school in Columbia, and it was there that he began 
to do serious literary work. He first formed his connection 
with The News and Courier as its Columbia correspondent 
during the Reconstruction times, and was promoted through 
various grades until he became associate editor. Failing 
health compelled his retirement shortly before his death. He 
was known not only as a brilliant and able writer, but a man 
of remarkably varied attainments. His distinguishing traits 
were his unselfishness, his friendliness, a spirit of absolute 
fairness and a delicate sense of humor. 

McKinley was the author of several prose monographs, the 
principal being An Appeal to Pharaoh, 1889 (a study of the 
negro problem), The Charleston Cyclone of 1885, and the 
Great Earthquake of 1886, also many beautiful poems of high 
technical merit which were published in a small volume in 
1904. From it the poems which follow are taken by kind 
permission of the editors and The State Company. 


CARLYLE MCKINLEY 


283 


SAPELO . 1 

(From Poems of Carlyle McKinley, 1904.) 

Far from thy shores, enchanted isle, 
Tonight I claim a brief surcease 

From toil and pain, to dream awhile 
Of thy still peace — 

To wander on thy shining strand, 

And lose awhile life’s troubled flow ; 

Its tumults die upon thy sand, 

Blest Sapelo. 

The sun is setting in the west ; 

The last light fades on land and sea ; 

The silence woos all things to rest — 

And wooeth me. 

So here I lie, with half-closed eye, 

Careless, without one vexing thought, 

While cool uncounted hours drift by 
In dreamy sort. 

And, ever, sweet thoughts without words. 
The shadows of old memories, 

Rise up and float away, as birds 
Float down the skies. 

In dreams I see the live-oak groves; 

In dreams I hear the curlews cry, 

Or watch the little mourning doves 
Speed softly by. 

I hear the surf beat on the sands, 

And murmurous voices from the sea; 

The wanton waves toss their white hands, 
And beckon me. 


1 “Sapelo Inland is on the ocean front of McIntosh County, near Darien, Georgia” 
(Mr. William A. Courtenay’s Memorial Pamphlet.) 


284 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Once more adrift ’neatli sunny skies, 
Where sunny seas have in their keep 

The lotus-lands, I see arise 
From out the deep 

Thy purple woods, uplift in air 
Above the misty horizon, 

As the king’s gardens towered fair 
O’er Babylon. 

We win into that silent sea; 

Our keel glides noiseless to the shore ; 

Sweet eyes and true hearts welcome me 
To rest once more. 

The peaceful ocean hints not here 
The sorrows its deep caves conceal; 

A loving Spirit broodeth o’er 
Its waters still. 

And well, as words are set to song, 

My thoughts are set unto its sounds; 

Their echoes rise and fall along 
Life’s weary rounds. 

The waves are murmuring on the beach, 
A soft wind whispers in the palm ; 

There is no sound of ruder speech 
To mar the calm. 

The happy sun comes up once more 
Above the woods I know so well; 

The rosy heaven, from shore to shore, 
Glows like a shell. 

I see the great old trees and tall, 

Sheeted with tangled vines that sweep 

From limb to limb — a leafy pall, 

Where shadows sleep. 


CARLYLE MCKINLEY 


285 


The long moss waves in every breeze, 

Like tattered banners, old and gray; 

And sigh and sigh the old, old trees 
All night, all day. 

With flower and fruit at once arrayed, 

The orange groves are passing fair, 

As though all seasons loved such shade, 
And lingered there. 

A mocking-bird on quivering wings 

Floats up and down the woodland ways, 

And, glad with me, he soars and sings 
Our song of praise. 

Slow, solemn cranes, with drowsy eyes, 

Nod in the shallow surf, breast-high ; 

And snow-white gulls, with hollow cries, 
Flit softly by. 

The turning tide runs slowly out ; 

I hear the marsh-birds calling shrill ; 

The toiling oarsmen’s song and shout 
Come to me still. 

I hear their boat-songs through the night; 

I think it is my heart that hears 

The old songs sounding yet, despite 
These long, long years. 

White clouds are drifting out to sea ; 

Like clouds the great ships come and go, 

As strange, and white, and silently, 

As soft and slow. 

From far-off lands, like tired things, 

They wander hither o’er the deep. 

Here all things rest; they fold their wings 
And fall asleep. 


286 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Far off I see the dim coast wall, 

A long, low reach of palm and pine, 

The marsh between, and over all 
The wide sunshine. 

And far beyond, and farther yet, 

Thank God, so far the loud world seems — 

That seem its memories and regrets 
As wrecks of dreams, 

When one awakens ; all its rout, 

And rivalry, and pain, and care, 

So faint and far there comes a doubt 
If it be there. 

Here, care ebbs out with every tide, 

And peace comes in upon the flood ; 

The heart looks out on life, clear-eyed, 

And finds it good. 

On that fair land, on that still sea, 

A spell of mystery lies; 

And all the thoughts they wake in me 
Are mysteries. 

Once more I stand upon thy shore — 

How peaceful yon far world doth seem ! 

A willing exile, evermore, 

Here let me dream. 


SOUTH CAROLINA IN 1 876. 

(From the same.) 

Naked and desolate she stands, 

Her name a byword in all lands, 

Her scepter wrested from her hands. 

— She smiles, a queen despite their bands! 


CARLYLE ftTKINLEY 


287 


Her crown is lying at lier feet, 

And mockers fill her rulers’ seat; 

The spoiler’s work is near complete. 

— Her broad, fair bosom still is sweet ! 

They’ve wasted all her royal dower; 

They’ve wrought her wrong with evil power; 
And is she faint, or doth she cower? 

— She scorns them in her weakest hour! 

Her daughters cling about her form, 

Their faith and love still high and warm ; 
They trust in her protecting arm. 

— Her dark eyes brood a wrathful storm! 

She bides her time — a patient Fate! 

Her sons are gathering in the gate ! 

She knows to counsel and to wait, 

And vengeance knoweth no too late! 


AT TIMROD’S GRAVE. 

(From the same.) 

Harp of the South! no more, no more 
Thy silvery strings shall quiver, 

The one strong hand might win thy strains 
Is chilled and stilled forever. 

Our one sweet singer breaks no more 
The silence sad and long, 

The land is hushed from shore to shore, 

It brooks no feebler song ! 

No other voice can charm our ears, 

None other soothe our pain ; 

Better these echoes lingering yet 
Than any ruder strain. 


288 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


For singing, Fate hath given sighs, 

For music we make moan ; 

Ah ! who may touch the harp strings since 
That whisper — “He is gone l” 

See where he lies — his last sad home 
Of all memorial bare, 

Save for a little heap of leaves 
The winds have gathered there! 

One fair, frail shell from some far sea 
Lies lone above his breast, 

Sad emblem and sole epitaph 
To mark his place of rest. 

The sweet winds murmur in its heart 
A music soft and low, 

As they would bring their secrets still 
To him who sleeps below. 

And lo! one tender pearly bloom, 

Through weeds and leaves upcast; 

As some sweet thought he left unsung 
Were blossoming at last. 

Wild weeds grow rank about the place, 

A dark, cold spot, and drear; 

The dull neglect that marked his life 
Hath followed even here. 

Around shine many a marble shaft 
And polished pillar fair, 

And strangers stand at Timrod’s grave 
To praise them unaware! 

“Hold up the glories of thy dead !” 

To thine own self be true, 

Land that he loved! Come, honor now 
This grave that honors you ! 


CARLYLE JVTKINLEY 


289 


THE TOILERS. 

(From the same.) 

All day the toilers sigh for rest, 

Nor find it anywhere. 

The sun sinks in the darkling west, 

And they forget their care; 

Tired hands are folded on each breast : 
The Lord hath heard their prayer ! 

Through all our lives we pray for rest, 
Nor find it anywhere. 

Then comes the Night, with balmy breast, 
And soothes us unaware. 

I wonder much — “And is it Death, 

Or but an answered prayer?” 


IN SPRING. 

(From the same.) 

Now all our days are poems, 

And all our nights are song; 

The woods are full of singers 
That babble loud and long. 

I hear sweet sounds of sinless mirth 
In garden and in grove ; 

And sea and shore, and heaven and earth, 
Are lapped in light and love. 

In tree, in bush and briar 
There is no silent thing : 

Ah, who may hope to rival them, 

These poets on the wing ! 

The winter’s past ; all things lift up 
A hymn of joy and praise : 

The hours are set to music, 

And days rhyme unto days. 


290 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


The flowers put on a conscious look, 

My lilies, where they grow, 

Smile at me from their sunny nook, 

And nod : “We know ! we know !” 

“We know the winter’s gone,” they say; 

“And summer conies. — We know! 

A soft wind came to us last night, 

Kissed us, and told us so.” 

Ah, life is sweeter than we thought, 

And sorrows soften, even, 

As if our world had strayed, somehow, 

A little nearer heaven. 

And so, content, I close my eyes, 

And folding thought away, 

Listen the breeze, the birds and bees, 

Sing what I cannot say. 

In all the trees — amid the flowers — 

They hide and sing, and sing, 

The world seems full of birds and blooms — 
Wake up, my heart, ’tis spring! 


ELIAS MARKS 


291 


ELIAS MARKS 

Elias Marks was born at Charleston, December 2, 1790, 
and died in New York about 1868. He received his early 
training in the Charleston schools, then entered the New 
York Medical College, from which he graduated in 1815. He 
conducted a drug store in New York for several years, when 
he returned to South Carolina and made his home at Colum- 
bia. In 1817 he married Jane Barham of New York. After 
practicing medicine a few years, he established his famous 
school for girls called Barhamville in compliment to his wife, 
who assisted in the management. She died in 1828, and in 
1833 Dr. Marks married Julia Pierpont Warne, a Northern 
lady. In 1824 his school was moved from the city to a health- 
ful and beautiful situation on the high hills north of Colum- 
bia, where it acquired a wide reputation as one of the best 
seminaries for young ladies in the South. In 1867 Dr. 
Marks went North to reside with his family. 1 

He was the author of Elfreide of Guldal : a Scandinavian 
Legend and Other Poems, 1850. This volume includes 
“Semael,” “Maia: a Mask,” “The Chrysalis,” “The Maniac 
Mother,” “To J. M. P.” “The Inner- World,” “Thoughts,” 
“The Peasant Wife,” “The Tablet,” “The Globe- Amaranth,” 
“To the Evening Star,” “Mary,” “Nacoochee,” “The Artist,” 
“LaFayette,” etc. He published in 1818 a translation of the 
Aphorisms of Hippocrates. 


VThe above data were kindly obtained for the author by Miss Ethel D. English, 
of Columbia. 


292 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


PAGEANT USHERING IN THE QUEEN OF MAY. 

(From Maia: A Mask, 1850.) 

MUSIC 

Flora, Pomona, the Queen, Ceres, Zephyrus. 

While these advance in the foreground, the Fairies are 
arranged on each side of the throne. 

Fiction is seen at some distance in the rear, in a green alcove, 
having on one side March, and on the other April. 
Oberon and Titania descend from their throne, and conduct 
Maia to it, placing themselves beside her. The seat of 
Maia is a little more elevated than theirs. 

Flora 

[Approaches Maia, and bends in fealty. ] 

Hail beauteous Queen ! Sweet Maia, we here bring 
Our vernal tribute ! Lo, the frolic Spring, 

Pranked in her iris-vest, hath sportive flung 
O’er upland hill and dale, her robe; — and hung 
Upon the beech, her tasselled honors high ! 

This coronal, which ere the garish eye 
Of laughing morn peeped o’er the eastern hill, 

Or that the plaining Whippoorwill 
Had stilled her vesper-notes of yester-eve, 

Or that the woodpecker, with curious bill. 

Had made the wilderness reecho, shrill, — 

For thee, sweet Maia, we weave! 

Here are sweet violets, gathered 
Ere that the vaulting sun had stolen their dew; 

And here are weldlings, severed 
From off the sloping greensward, where they grew. 

But flowers wither while they bloom, 

Gracing the bridal and the tomb. 

Haste, then, gather flowerets, where 
Spring forever crowns the year; 

And the spirit, soaring high, 

Drinks of immortality ! 


ELIAS MARKS 


293 


Zephyrus. 

Hail, lovely Maia! from yon star-crowned west, 
On gossamer wing, we speed at thy behest ! 
Swiftly we have wandered o’er 
Coral strand and cliff-crowned shore, 

Where the huge Pacific rides 
Heaving with his countless tides ! 

We have frolicked with the curl 
Of the crisped Ocean-wave ; 

We have gambolled, where the pearl 
Lies deep in Neptune’s cave; 

And have fanned the sea-boy’s sleep, 

Whispering in the shroud; 

And on the stilly moonlight-deep, 

Mocked the curlew loud ! 

We have backward chased the year, 

Wheeling on his destined sphere, 

From the vale of bright Cashmere, 

Either Ind and Araby ; 

All the sweets which each supplies, 

All that greet the charmed eyes, 

Hither we convey to thee, 

In token of our fealty ! 

Pomona. 

All hail sweet Maia! — not in vassal-guise, 
Hither we haste to plight allegiance due; 
Pomona’s treasures come, where summer-skies 
Beam brightest in their deep, cerulean hue ; 

Or when mild autumn, gorgeously bedecks 
The west with pageantry of crimson dye, 

And evening, clad in purple scarf, reflects 
Upon the soul her thought-alluring sky. 

Yet these pledges here we bring, 

Of our orchard’s blossoming; 

Redolent of every sweet, 

Which the vernal year can greet; 

And ere three summer moons shall wane, 
Pomona shall her joys proclaim; 

Her golden fruit and purple store, 

From her teeming horn shall pour; 
Crowning the board with viands which vie 
With immortals’ luxury! — 


20- W. 


294 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Ceres. 

Yonder, where the forester 
Affrights with echoing axe the deer, 
Bounding thro’ the copse-wood home, — 
Thence, sweet Maia, we have come 
With nodding sheaf and tasselled ear ; 

And ere three summer-moons appear, 

With their modest crescent fair, 

We shall crown the grange e’ermore, 

And bless the board with Ceres’ store. 

Even now the mower spies 

The golden-crested harvest rise ! . 

Titania. 

[ Advances with the crown and gem.] 

This gem, sweet Maia, all thy own, 

Shall deck this day thy lovely zone ; 

Our Iris marked thee, yester-eve, 

Ere the western sky could weave 
Her many-colored braid of light, 

To deck the raven-brow of night, — 

She marked thee, when, at yester-eve, 

Thou from thy lodge didst take thy leave; 
Wending thro’ copse, and dell, and mead, 

To minister to sufferer’s need : 

And saw thee, from the matron’s brow 
Wipe the cold death-dew — whispering low 
Blessed words of hope and peace, 

Bidding the sigh of anguish cease. 

Just then, from forth thy eyelids’ sphere, 
This tear-drop coursed, — she caught it, ere 
It fell to earth — and brought it where 
Our Oberon his audience kept, 

While the race of mortals slept. 

’Twas even then, my royal fay 
From Jove’s silvery star a ray 
Straight caught, and quick, with elfin-spear, 
Transfixed it in this vestal tear, — 

And fain would place it in my zone : 

“Not so,” said I, “my Oberon, 


ELIAS MARKS 


295 


For only she this gem shall don, 

Who gave it being — and display 
Its honors, as our Queen of May.” 

[ Titania places the crystal tear in the zone of MaiaJ 

The Coronal. 

And now that with the vernal year, 

Awakening nature’s smiles appear; 

While genial harmony and gladness, 

Lift e’en the stoic-brow of sadness ; — 

While groves are vocal, flowerets brightest, 

Skies blue, hearts true, and bosoms lightest, — 

To usher in this blissful day, 

We crown thee, maiden, Queen of May ! . . . 

We bring thee garlands, gathered ere 
The sun’s first orient rays could sere 
Their bloom and freshness; — eglantine, 

Violet and rose and lily, twine 
To grace this festive day of thine ! 

But lilies fade, and roses wither, 

And spring departs, and clouds oft gather, 

And summer flies, and autumn, near, 

Resigns to winter’s arms the year. 

O, may we, lovely Maia, see 

The season’s blessings meet in thee; 

Spring’s earliest promise, summer’s skies, 

And autumn’s stores, and winter’s joys; — 

Revolving thus, e’er bless’d and blessing, 

And virtue’s fadeless meed possessing. 

Choral Response. 

And now, that with the vernal year, 

Awakening nature’s smiles appear, 

While genial harmony and gladness 
Lift e’en the stoic brow of sadness ; 

While groves are vocal, flowerets brightest, 

Skies blue, hearts true, and blossoms lightest, — 

To usher in this blissful day, 

We crown thee, maiden, Queen of May. 

[After a slight pause , Oberon and Titania conduct Maia from 
her throne .] 

Triumphal March. 

[All pass out except the three Fairies and Fiction .] 


296 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


WILLIAM MAXWELL MARTIN 

William Maxwell Martin, “Ruby” was born at Colum- 
bia, South Carolina, June 4, 1837, and died there February 
21, 1861. In 1852 he entered South Carolina College, but 
two years later he was removed to Wofford College, from 
which he graduated in 1857. His commencement speech on 
“The Calico Flag” produced a sensation in its way beyond 
anything in the annals of the college. In 1858 he was prin- 
cipal of the Palmetto School in Columbia, and in 1860 he 
taught at St. George’s. He then took up the study of law. 
At the beginning of hostilities he went with the Columbia 
Artillery to Charleston and was stationed at Fort Moultrie. 
He had part in the firing upon the Star of the West, and was 
promoted for soldierly conduct. On the night of January 
31 he stood to his gun during the whole of a damp and dis- 
agreeable night, an exposure which brought on a chill 
attended with typhoid fever and resulting in his death. From 
these circumstances he has been called “the first martyr to 
Southern independence.” 

A volume of Martin’s writings consisting of poems, essays, 
and speeches, was published in 1861 with a sketch by Dr. 
James Wood Davidson, an elegy by Professor Wm. J. Rivers, 
and contemporary notices. Among his best poems are: “A 
Man Dies Not Till His work is Done,” “The Sunset Prayer,” 
“Madeline,” “A Wail for the Gifted” (an elegy on Howard H. 
Caldwell), “My Cross,” “Baby is at Rest,” “To Lily,” 
“Flowers,” “How Beauteous is Moonlight,” “Mary,” “Bum 
Vivimus Vivamus,” “The Beautiful Can Never Die,” and 
“Garpe Diem.” 

A MAN DIES NOT TILL HIS WORK IS DONE. 

(From Lyrics and Sketches, 1861.) 

Let Azrael come at early morn, 

When the day is just begun, 

Or come at the evening’s close — a man 
Dies not till his work is done. 


WILLIAM MAXWELL MARTIN 


297 


Let his name be sung in marble balls 
By Fame, in her loudest tone, 

Or let him dwell in the pauper’s hut, 
Uncared for, and all unknown. 


Or let him fight for truth and the right, 
And die as a hero dies, 

And live again in the hearts of men, 

As saints to their heaven arise. 


Or let him strive in the wrong to hide, 
With error’s dark cloud, truth’s sun, 
The avenging sword suspends its blow : 
He lives till his work is done. 


Then sorrow not for the budding rose 
Death’s frost has withered soon, 

And grieve ye not for the ripened stalk 
Which the reaper cut at noon. 

And tremble not at the cannon’s roar, 
Though thousands around you fall; 

Nor fear the breath of the venomed plague 
When you go at duty’s call; 


And fearlessly go mid the Arctic cold, 
And heat of the Southern sun ; 

For the might of death can ne’er prevail 
O’er man, till his work is done. 


And the man lives long who does his best 
For those whom he dwells among; 
But he who lives for an hundred years, 
If he does no good, dies young. 


298 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE SUNSET PRAYER. 

The gold-crusted gates of the purple-hung West 
Have oped to receive the Day-God to his rest; 

While the handmaids of Thetis, who blushingly wait 
To welcome the monarch with songs at the gate, 

Robed in soft silken cymars of roseate hue, 

Are preparing to scatter the diamond-like dew. 

’Tis a calm Sabbath eve, and a breeze softly blows, 
Perfumed with the breath of a newly-born rose, 

And the envoy of night, in her mantle of gray, 

Comes on, while a bird chants a dirge o’er the day. 

From their homes in the heavens, the stars, as they rise, 
Look down to the earth with their bright loving eyes, 
And bright loving eyes too look up from the earth, 

And woo the sweet stars till they twinkle with mirth. 

The Queen of the night-time — the silver-crowned Queen — 
Sends her heralding raylets to lighten the scene, 

And the spectre-like forms of the Oak-tree and Pine 
Glide silently forth, and their weird arms entwine. 

There’s a fairy-like music which comes through the trees, 
And the murmur of waters is borne on the breeze, 

And sings to my soul the sweet anthems of streams, 

Like the mystical music heard only in dreams; 

And to mortals a soul-filling draught is once given 
Of love and of beauty — a foretaste of heaven. 

And now, all regardless, forgetful, of earth — 

Of its pleasures or woes, of its sorrows or mirth, 

Of its triumphs of Science, its glories of Art, 

A prayer would well up from the depths of my heart ; 

I’d pray the great Father of Goodness and Truth 
To pardon the wild wayward errors of youth, 

To bring back the Hope of the blest days of yore, 

And give me the Faith of my boyhood once more. 


ALEXANDER BEAUFORT MEEK 


299 


ALEXANDER BEAUFORT MEEK 

Alexander Beaufort Meek was born at Columbia, South 
Carolina, July 17, 1814, and died at Columbus, Mississippi, 
November 30, 1865. He was taken by his parents at an early 
age to Alabama. He graduated at the University of Ala- 
bama in 1833, then studied law at the University of Georgia, 
and in 1835 began to practice his profession at Tuscaloosa, 
at the same time editing a newspaper. In 1836 he saw some 
military service against the Seminole Indians. In the same 
year he became attorney-general of Alabama, and in 1841 
probate judge. In 1845 he was made assistant secretary of 
the treasury, and went to Washington to reside, but returned 
in two years to accept the appointment of district attorney. 
He resided for about twenty years in Mobile, where he was 
one of the editors of The Register, and held various public 
positions, at one time being speaker of the lower house of the 
legislature. His contribution to the cause of the Confederacy 
consisted of a number of stirring patriotic songs and other 
poems. At the close of the war he removed to Columbus, 
Mississippi, and there died within a few months. 

Judge Meek published Red Eagle, 1855, a romantic narra- 
tive poem; Songs and Poems of the South, 1857, which in- 
cludes “Land of the South,” “Girl of the Sunny South,” 
“Balaklava,” “The Mocking Bird,” etc. He was the author 
also of Romantic Passages in Southwestern History (ora- 
tions and sketches), and an unpublished History of Ala- 
bama. 1 


^he author begs to acknowledge his indebtedness to Professor Trent’s Southern 
Writers (1905) for the data for the above sketch. 


300 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


LAND OF THE SOUTH. 

(A lyric from The Day of Freedom, in Songs and Poems of the South, 1857.) 

Land of the South ! — imperial land ! 

How proud thy mountains rise ! — 

How sweet thy scenes on every hand ! 

How fair thy covering skies ! 

But not for this, — oh, not for these, 

I love thy fields to roam, — 

Thou hast a dearer spell to me, — 

Thou art my native home! 


Thy rivers roll their liquid wealth, 
Unequalled to the sea, — 

Thy hills and valleys bloom with health, 
And green with verdue be ! 

But, not for thy proud ocean streams, 
Not for thine azure dome, — 

Sweet, sunny South! — I cling to thee, — 
Thou art my native home ! 


I’ve stood beneath Italia’s clime, 
Beloved of tale and song, — 

On Helvyn’s hills, proud and sublime, 
Where nature’s wonders throng; 

By Tempe’s classic sunlit streams, 
Where gods, of old, did roam, — 

But ne’er have found so fair a land 
As thou — my native home! 

And thou hast prouder glories, too, 
Than nature ever gave, — 

Peace sheds o’er thee, her genial dew, 
And Freedom’s pinions wave, — 

Fair science flings her pearls around, 
Religion lifts her dome, — 

These, these endear thee to my heart, — 
My own, loved native home ! 


ALEXANDER BEAUFORT MEEK 


301 


And “heaven’s best gift to man” is thine, 
God bless thy rosy girls ! — 

Like sylvan flowers, they sweetly shine, — 
Their hearts are pure as pearls! 

And grace and goodness circle them, 
Where’er their footsteps roam, — 

How can I then, whilst loving them, 

Not love my native home! 

Land of the South! — imperial land! — 
Then here’s a health to thee, — 

Long as thy mountain barriers stand, 
May’st thou be blessed and free! — 

May dark dissention’s banner ne’er 
Wave o’er thy fertile loam, — 

But should it come, there’s one will die, 
To save his native home! 


THE MOCKING BIRD. 

(From the same.) 

From the vale, what music ringing, 

Fills the bosom of the night ; 

On the sense, entranced, flinging 
Spells of witchery and delight ! 

O’er magnolia, lime, and cedar, 

From yon locust-top, it swells, 

Like the chant of serenader, 

Or the rhymes of silver bells ! 

Listen ! dearest, listen to it ! 

Sweeter sounds were never heard ! 

’Tis the song of that wild poet — 

Mime and minstrel — Mocking Bird. 

See him, swinging in his glory, 

On yon topmost bending limb ! 

Carolling his amorous story, 

Like some wild crusader’s hymn ! 


302 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Now it faints in tones delicious 
As the first low vow of love! 

Now it bursts in swells capricious, 

All the moonlit vale above! 

Listen ! dearest, etc. 

Why is’t thus, this sylvan Petrarch 
Pours all night his serenade? 

’Tis for some proud woodland Laura, 
His sad sonnets are all made! 

But he changes now his measure — 
Gladness bubbling from his mouth — 

Jest, and gibe, and mimic pleasure — 
Winged Anacreon of the South! 

Listen ! dearest, etc. 

Bird of mimic, wit, and gladness, 
Troubadour of sunny climes, 

Disenchanter of all sadness, — 

Would thine art were in my rhymes. 

O’er the heart that’s beating by me, 

I would weave a spell divine ; 

Is there aught she could deny me, 
Drinking in such strains as thine? 

Listen ! dearest, etc. 


HENRY JUNIUS NOTT 


303 


HENRY JUNIUS NOTT 

Henry Junius Nott was born in Union District, South 
Carolina, November 4, 1797, and died October 13, 1837. He 
was the son of the distinguished jurist, Abram Nott. He 
graduated at South Carolina College with the brilliant 
Hugh S. Legard in 1814. He selected law as his profession, 
and in 1818 was admitted to the bar, and began practicing 
in Columbia. He attained a good practice and a high stand- 
ing at a bar which included such men as Senator William C. 
Preston, Chancellor William Harper, Colonel McCord, and 
Hon. W. F. DeSaussure. In collaboration with Colonel 
McCord, he published the law volume known as Nott and 
McCord’s Reports. In spite of his promising prospects in 
the legal profession, he decided to abandon it and devote his 
time to literature. In 1821 he travelled in Europe, spending 
most of his time in France and Holland storing his mind 
with profound and varied learning. On his return in 1824, 
he was elected professor of the elements of criticism, logic, 
and the philosophy of languages in South Carolina College 
He was chairman of the faculty from 1835 to 1836 and di» 
charged his duties with great fidelity and ability. His career 
ended tragically when he was in the prime of life. He and 
his wife both lost their lives in the wreck of the ill-fated 
steamer Home off the coast of North Carolina, October 13, 
1837. 

As a writer Professor Nott contributed much to the South- 
ern Review. His Novelettes of a Traveller, or Odds and Ends 
from the Knapsack of Thomas Singularity, 2 vols., 1834, 
was a popular book in its day. In collaboration with Colonel 
McCord he published a series of legal reports known as Nott 
and McCord’s Reports. He wrote also biographies of Parr 
and Wyttenbach. 


304 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE DWARF’S DUEL. 

(From Novelettes of a Traveller, 1834.) 

There was a club that met twice a week at the inn, and I 
joined it as a means of passing off the time. Perhaps I had 
not one among them that I could call friend ; but there were 
many who viewed me with kindness, and treated me with 
forbearance. By degrees I learned to stand the occasional 
jokes on my littleness, when not too broad. If I became 
angry, there was merely a laugh- at my waspishness. It was 
in vain for me to get in a passion. . . . No one was 

insulted by the dwarf. . 

On one occasion, Murdock, a custom-house officer of a 
neighboring seaport, who now and then visited our club, 
was with us, and the talk fell on smuggling. As the conver- 
sation was going on merrily, I said to him: “I think of 
going to France; and if I should bring back a spare suit or 
two, and a few dozen gloves and silk stockings, would you 
be hard upon me?” 

“Oh,” replied he, jocularly, “I never trouble my head about 
toys and baby-clothes.” 

This was said in such a dry, odd manner, that it drew 
forth a general peal of laughter. My feelings got the better 
of me, and I threw my glass of wine plump in his face. He 
wiped it off, and replied with great composure, — 

“Now, Robin, were I ill-natured, and to return the compli- 
ment, you would run the risk of being drowned”; holding 
up at the same time a foaming pint pot of porter. 

At this second cut the club laughed louder than before, 
evidently tickled also at the preparation for boxing that I 
exhibited. Seeing that I was much enraged, several persons 
interfered, and I immediately left the room overboiling with 
passion. . . . [Cock Robin then consulted a friend 

named Townsend, through whom he sent Murdoch a chal- 
lenge to fight a duel, which was accepted.] 

The place where we were to fight was a remote situation 
on the sands near the sea-shore. We pursued a retired path 
that led from the back part of the town, and arrived near 
the spot without meeting a soul. For some time we had not 
exchanged a word. 


HENRY JUNIUS NOTT 


305 


“Now, Robert,” said Townsend, “we are almost at our 
journey’s end. Here, take your weapons,” at the same time 
giving me a large horseman’s pistol, and a broadsword that 
would have rivalled in ponderousness the famous six feet 
blade of Sir William Wallace. I would have perhaps had 
my suspicions awakened had Townsend presented me these 
arms at first; but he had concealed them under his cloak, 
and my mind was too much absorbed on approaching the 
battle-ground to think of minor matters. What was my 
confusion when, turning round a projecting knoll, I found 
myself in presence of several hundred people of my own and 
the neighbouring villages, gentlefolks, ploughmen, sailors, 
beggars, and children. As soon as I appeared in sight, accom- 
panied by my second, there was a general peal of laughter. 
Townsend was fully six feet high, and stout in proportion. 
Beside my huge attendant I marched attired in a full suit of 
black, as he had advised me that I would offer a less promi- 
nent mark for a ball than in more glaring habiliments, bear- 
ing in either hand my huge instruments of death. The crowd 
got round me with peals of laughter and sardonic grins that 
both mortified and vexed me. A number of little ragged 
boys in the crowd shouted loudly and merrily, — 

“Hurrah for little Robert ! Hurrah for Cock Robin !” 

Looking about through the press, I discovered near me my 
antagonist standing with his second. He had in one hand a 
very small pocket-pistol, and a large darning-needle in the 
other; under one arm was a little three-legged stool, and 
under the other a long spy-glass. Near by stood two sur- 
geons, with an immense array of instruments. 

The terms of the duel were then explained to me. As my 
antagonist had been challenged, he had the choice of 
weapons, and had selected the broadsword as Townsend told 
me; but after much management it had been settled that 
there should be one fire with pistols, and in case that did not 
terminate fatally, broadswords were to be used. 

The mirth of the crowd, that had been stunning, moderated 
a little as we assumed our ground. When we were placed at 
our distances, Murdoch, putting his hand over his brow, 
looked round the field two or three times as if hunting for 
me in vain. He then raised the spy-glass to aid his search, 


306 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


till at last he seemed to discover me. My very soul burned 
with rage, and I had no other thoughts but to revenge this 
additional insult. The word was to be given, and then we 
were allowed our time to fire, while one of the seconds could 
count five. The word was given. Before one was counted, 
Murdoch, who had kept his glass fixed on me, raised his 
pistol, and suddenly seated himself on the stool he had placed 
on the ground just by him. The mob shouted and huzzaed. 
Amazed at his conduct, I cried to his second, who was count- 
ing, “Stop ; what is the meaning of Mr. Murdoch’s uncommon 
behaviour?” 

“Kobin,” said he, “all I want is a fair fight. Now, as I am 
six feet high and you four feet, I have brought a stool just 
one foot high to put us on a level; as for the thickness, I 
give you that in the bargain, besides leaving you the best part 
of my person to shoot at.” 

“Sir, I came here to fight, and not to be jested with, and I 
shall post you as a coward if you do not act as gentlemen 
usually do on similar occasions.” 

“Post and be damned to you. A pretty joke, truly, that a 
man of my size should fight on such unequal terms with one 
of yours. Why I would as quick try to wing a bumblebee as 
to hit you at all at such distance. As I only desire fair play, 
I propose another plan : you shall stand on a barrel to raise 
you to my height, or I will stand in it to shelter half my 
body. Come, I give you the choice.” 

I could restrain myself no longer. 

“Gentlemen,” I exclaimed to the seconds, “pray proceed 
once more, and let’s have done with this.” 

We were again placed, and the word regularly given. At 
the word -fire , though the pistol was so heavy I could scarcely 
hold it, I took steady aim, and pulled trigger. It was so 
highly charged, that with the report and violent recoil I was 
stunned, my arm benumbed, and my whole system affected 
as with a shock of electricity. I could nevertheless see that 
Murdoch had not fallen, and stood with his pistol pointed; 
but before I had recovered from the effects of the explosion, 
my adversary fired, and the ball, as I thought, had entered 
my head. An acute pain shot through my right eye, and I 
fell to the ground. I was instantly lifted up by several per- 


HENKY JUNIUS NOTT 


307 


sons, and the crowd pressed around. Before I opened my 
eyes, obstreperous laughter rang in my ears. The next 
moment I gazed around, and perceived Murdoch, his second, 
the surgeons, and even Townsend, almost suffocated with 
laughter. I put my hand to my eye, and took from it a wad 
of paper that was still sticking, and which, striking rather 
hard on the upper lid, had caused a severe momentary pain 
in the ball. In an instant I comprehended the whole matter. 
The pistol had been loaded with paper, and I had been 
brought there as a spectacle for a parcel of young hoaxers. I 
sprang quick as lightning, and seizing the broadsword, would 
have done some injury, had I not stumbled over a stone in 
my haste, and fell flat on my face, which gave time to even 
the children to get out of my way. I pursued Murdoch, his 
second, the surgeon, and Townsend alternately, who merely 
ran fast enough to keep out of my reach; while the crowd 
screamed, shouted, and hallooed with delight at the sight. I 
ran hither and thither until I was exhausted, and eventually 
burst into tears. Several voices immediately exclaimed, 
“Shame, shame, that is enough ; let the little fellow alone.” 


308 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


BENJAMIN MORGAN PALMER 

Benjamin Morgan Palmer was born at Charleston, South 
Carolina, January 25, 1818, and died at New Orleans, May 
28, 1902. He was a student at the University of Georgia, and 
studied theology at the Columbia Theological Seminary. 
After serving as pastor of Presbyterian churches at Savannah 
(1841-1843) and at Columbia (1843-1846), he filled the 
chair of Church History and Polity in the Columbia Sem- 
inary from 1853 until 1856. From then until his death he 
was pastor of the First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans. 
In 1847 he established The Southern Presbyterian Review 
and edited it for several years. In 1861 he took a prominent 
part in organizing the first general assembly of the Southern 
Presbyterian Church at Augusta, Georgia, and was chosen 
its first moderator. Dr. Palmer was recognized as one of the 
greatest pulpit and platform orators of the country. In a 
letter to the author, Professor Thomas Cary Johnson, Dr. 
Palmer’s biographer, says, “ ‘The Present Crisis’ may be 
taken as a type of his elaborately wroughtout commencement 
address. The ‘Address to the Confederate Veterans’ at Louis- 
ville is a more composite affair, and stands well for his work 
in his old age. The ‘Anti-Lottery Address’ is a spontaneous 
speech, extempore in the best sense of the term, and shows 
what he was competent to do in sudden great emergencies.” 
The following three books by Dr. Palmer have been pub- 
lished : Life and Letters of James Henley Thornwell, Three- 
fold Fellowship, and Theology of Prayer. 

THE PRESENT CRISIS . 1 

(From The Present Crisis and Its Issues, a pamphlet published by Washington and 
Lee University, 1869.) 

The navigation is always dangerous through the narrow 
straits which connect two open seas. And the grave question 

x The author would express his thanks to Dr. Pa-imer’s biographer, Professor 
Thomas Cary Johnson, of Richmond, Virginia, for the loan of the rare pamphlet 
from which the selection is made.. 


BENJAMIN MORGAN PALMER 


309 


arises, how a people, brought to the end of a given cycle, may 
safely tide over the bar, and find the deeper sea-room lying 
beyond. The question is a most practical one to us upon 
this continent today ; for it involves the possibility of a great 
people “slouching down upon the wrong side of its crisis”; 
which a moderate share of virtue should enable it to turn 
with safety and honor. 

There are at least two canons which experience has 
furnished, bearing upon this issue. The first is, that no peo- 
ple has long kept its place in history after traversing the 
fundamental principles upon which the national character 
has been formed ; and which are, therefore, imbedded in the 
institutions of the country, and woven into the texture of a 
nation’s civilization and thought. It would be a prodigal 
waste of these precious moments to argue the point, that 
every truly historic race must be the representative of some 
distinct idea. It is just this want of identification with any 
great principle to be wrought out in their public fortunes, 
that has rendered so many nations on the globe completely 
unhistoric. They simply drift upon the tide, tossed to and 
fro upon the mere chances of life, vexed by wars that ter- 
minate in no moral result, and sink at last into dark oblivion. 
When the history of the world is written, these are discounted 
just as though they had never been ; simply because they have 
contributed no page to the record which is not an utter blank. 
The principles, then, which a nation undertakes to represent, 
become the key to its career. Whatever changes may be 
brought in the external forms of its life, through the various 
crises it is called to pass, must lie in one general direction, 
and upon the plane of those original and fundamental con- 
victions through which it was brought into being. Foreign 
war and civil discord, the stress of revolution and the 
intrigues of diplomacy, may strain these principles to the 
utmost, or even threaten their extinction: Yet can they never 
be surrendered. With the tenacity that belongs to the in- 
stinct of life itself they must be cherished, enshrined as a 
deeper faith in the nation’s heart, and receiving a fuller 
expansion from the severity of the probation to which they 
are exposed. . 

The second canon is not less important, to wit: that in 


21— W. 


310 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


passing successfully through any crisis, a people must possess 
elasticity enough to adapt themselves to new conditions, and 
thus to meet the issues of another Cycle. This is but the 
vigor of the national life seeking a new channel when the old 
has fallen through, just as a healthy plant throws off a new 
shoot and marks by a new joint where interference has given 
another direction to its growth. Nothing seals the fate of a 
nation sooner than the stubborn adherence to absolute usages 
and forms which the progress of society is determinately 
throwing off. These are either simply outgrown, as a country 
passes through the different stages of its own development, 
or they are displaced by the new combinations which policy 
or force may compel from without. 

In this connection, a caveat must he entered against that 
coarse and selfish Utilitarianism which measures all things 
only hy a material standard. This is the peril which I most 
dread in the impending crisis; that in the friction of these 
competitive industries, the fine sense of honor which formed 
the beautiful enamel of Southern character, may be rubbed 
away, to be followed by the swift decay of virtue, of which it 
was once the protection and the ornament. Materialism, 
sitting in the Schools and speaking through the forms of 
Philosophy, is not perhaps much to be dreaded. It is too 
monstrous to be believed. It shocks our moral convictions, 
and startles the pride of self-love, to be told that thought is 
only a secretion of the brain — that the rapture of joy and 
the pathos of grief are only currents of electricity along the 
tissues of the body. We can safely leave this to the instinct 
of human scorn, which resents as an insult such a libel upon 
our nature. But the Spirit of materialism, infused into all 
the transactions of business and common life, is the Angel 
of Pestilence dropping the seeds of death from its black 
wing wherever it sweeps. It is this subtle and dangerous 
spirit which is at the bottom of that fearful demoralization 
that has spread like a leprosy over the land. It is rapidly 
displacing ligitimate commerce by the silent invasion of its 
fixed laws; rendering the individual trader helpless in the 
grasp of a powerful combination controlling the market hy 
irregular and unnatural methods, and making it depend upon 
the interest and caprice of large capitalists. It is corrupting 


BENJAMIN MORGAN PALMER 


311 


public justice through venal juries, no longer impartially 
selected, but chosen from the hangers-on of courts, whose sole 
subsistence is the bribe of the wealthy litigant. It is filling 
the noble profession of the law with mendicant attorneys, 
prostituting the solemn priesthood of their office by opening 
the subterfuges of legal chicanery to villainy and fraud. 
It invades even the sancity of the bench, and overwhelms 
judicial integrity by the pressure of political and commercial 
combinations. It is converting public office from a ministry 
of responsibility and trust into a place of emolument, where 
the perquisites to be enjoyed outweigh the duties to be per- 
formed. And worse than all, it is sapping the truthfulness, 
the honesty and honor of private life, and silently destroying 
the moral bonds by which society is held together. Through 
all its grades, from the highest to the lowest, every man is 
striving to outstrip his neighbor in the possession and exhibi- 
tion of wealth; and the most sacred claims of love, and all 
the sweet charities and refinements of social life, are sacri- 
ficed upon the altar of universal greed. . 

Coupled with this, we must retain from the past that indi- 
viduality of character which makes a man a solid unit in 
society. This attribute has with us been largely the product 
of circumstances. An agricultural people, living apart from 
one another, every man in the center of a given circle of 
dependents for whom he was called to think and plan, there 
was nourished a personal independence which we cannot 
afford to lose. On the contrary, in a crowded population, 
men are cheapened in value, like the leaves in a forest. The 
individual comes to be little more than a single brick in a 
blank wall, answering only to so many square inches of a 
common surface. Through a perpetual commingling, thought 
ceases to be a fresh product of the mind, and there is substi- 
tuted for it a public opinion which is caught and given back, 
just as one breathes in and breathes out a common atmos- 
phere. . 

Finally, we must carry over to the f uture a patriotism that 
is born of adversity and trial, more intense and purer than 
in the prosperous and joyful past. Love of country is inex- 
tinguishable, because it is filial. It ranks with that we owe 
to the parents who begot us, and have given to us their image 


312 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


and their name. But I plead for it not upon the cold footing 
of duty, but as a precious sentiment of the heart. As a prin- 
ciple, it strikes its root far down into the conscience ; but its 
bloom must expand into a holy passion, and its fruit ripens 
into acts of enduring service for the public weal. The best 
affections of the soul are those which strengthen under trial. 
The alloy of selfishness burns away in the crucible, and the 
pure love comes forth with a power of endurance which 
nothing can exhaust. It is thus we bear up each other under 
the discipline of life; not through the compulsion of neces- 
sity, nor the cold obligation of duty, but with a warm devo- 
tion which finds its joy in those ministries of love. A genuine 
patriotism is not that which shouts itself hoarse amid holiday 
celebrations; but when the country groans in the anguish 
of a great crisis, waits upon its destiny, though it be that of 
the tomb. And this land of ours, furrowed by so many graves 
and overshadowed with such solemn memories, calls for a 
consecration of the heart which shall be equal to its grief. 
The patriotism which these days demand, must refine itself 
into martyrdom. It must suffer as well as act. Strong in the 
consciousness of rectitude, it must nerve itself to endure con- 
tradiction and scorn. If need be, it must weep at the burial 
of civil liberty; and wait with the heroism of hope for its 
certain resurrection. Such a spirit will wear out the longest 
tyranny, and assist at the coronation of a brighter destiny. 


JAMES LOUIS PETIGRU 


313 


JAMES LOUIS PETIGRU 

James Louis Petigru was born in Abbeville District, in 
1789, and died in 1863 at Charleston, where he lies buried in 
St. Michael’s Churchyard. His father was of Irish ancestry, 
his mother a Huguenot. He was a pupil of the great Dr. 
Moses Waddel, who prepared him for South Carolina Col- 
lege, where he graduated with first honor in the class of 1809. 
He then taught for a while in the lower country, a part of the 
time being employed as a tutor in Beaufort College. He 
chose the law as his profession, however, and was admitted 
to the bar in 1812. After ten years’ practice at Coosawhat- 
chee, he removed to Charleston, where he soon rose to the 
head of the legal profession, his arguments being found on 
almost all the leading cases that came at that time before the 
bench of South Carolina. His genial character and sterling 
integrity caused him to be a favorite in a refined and 
exclusive society, and his reputation as an eloquent orator 
and wit became national. In politics a unionist of the most 
outspoken type, he bitterly opposed nullification and grieved 
deeply over secession. His biography was written by Wil- 
liam J. Grayson. Among his most notable addresses are The 
True Glory of America, Oration at the Semi-Centennial 
Celebration of South Carolina College, 1854, and Oration on 
South Carolina History, May 27, 1858. 

SEMI-CENTENNIAL OF SOUTH CAROLINA COLLEGE. 

(From The Centennial Celebration of the Granting of the Charter of the South 
Carolina College, 1902. 1 ) 

It is our grateful task to commemorate the virtues of our 
founders — to celebrate the triumph of liberal principles over 
a narrow, egotistic policy and to mingle our congratulations 


x This very interesting pamphlet, for which we are largely indebted to the intelli- 
gent zeal of Mr. August Kohn, is a reprint from a special edition of The News and 
Courier. 


314 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


over the fiftieth anniversary of the day when the South 
Carolina College welcomed the first student to its hospitable 
halls. If any doubts were entertained of the expediency of 
establishing this seat of learning at the public expense they 
have long since disappeared. No one now doubts that it is 
the duty of the State to make liberal provision for the higher 
branches of education. Such provision must be made by the 
State, because such establishments are too costly for indi- 
vidual enterprise. The enterprise of individuals, sustained 
by the prospect of commercial profit, may scale the mountain 
barriers that vainly interpose their height to the invasion of 
the engineer and the progress of the railroad. But the hills 
of Parnassus are proverbially barren and literature tempts 
no capitalist with the hope of dividends. Without the 
patronage of the State it would be impossible to erect the 
costly buildings, to collect the learned men and supply all 
the materials requisite for a seat of learning adapted to a 
high and comprehensive seat of study. And if it be asked 
for what use such a college is wanted the answer is that such 
an establishment is necessary to the progress of improvement. 
Curiosity is the spring of literary and scientific research. It 
is excited by the knowledge of what has been discovered — 
by acquaintance with the methods of investigation — by emu- 
lation and the intercourse of kindred minds. It is in colleges 
that these causes are in full operation. They stimulate 
activity, keep pace with the improvement of the age and 
furnish inquiring minds with the means of further progress. 
It is a law of our nature that, if society be not progressive, it 
will decline. Colleges, therefore, are institutions of neces- 
sity, and where they answer the purposes for which they are 
founded amply repay the generous patronage of the public, 
although they add nothing to the stock of material wealth. 

Fifty years have passed and we have crossed, for the first 
time, the threshold of the new hall, where the future anni- 
versaries of this College are to be celebrated. The old chapel 
and the early days of this institution will henceforth be 
invested with a sort of historical interest. When we survey 
the flowing river we are prompted by a natural curiosity to 
know from what distant springs it takes its source, and I 
revert from this splendid dome to the Incunabula of our Col- 


JAMES LOUIS PETIGRU 


315 


lege with more pleasure, because it affords the opportunity 
of rendering the poor tribute of posthumous applause to the 
memory of its first president, my revered master. 

Jonathan Maxcy exerted no little influence on the char- 
acter of the youth of his day, and his name is never to be 
mentioned by his disciples without reverence. He had many 
eminent qualifications for his office. His genius was aesthetic ; 
persuasion flowed from his lips and his eloquence diffused 
over every subject the bright hues of a warm imagination. 
He was deeply imbued with classic learning and the human 
mind divided his heart with the love of polite literature. 
With profound piety, he was free from the slightest taint of 
bigotry or narrowness. Early in life he had entered into the 
ministry, under sectarian banners, but though he never 
resiled from the creed which he had adopted — so catholic was 
his spirit — so genial his soul to the inspirations of faith, 
hope and charity — that, whether in the chair or the pulpit, 
he never seemed to us less than an apostolic teacher. Never 
will the charm of his eloquence be erased from the memory 
on which its impression has once been made. His elocution 
was equally winning and peculiar. He spoke in the most 
deliberate manner ; his voice was clear and gentle ; his action 
composed and quiet; yet no man had such command over 
the noisy sallies of youth. His presence quelled every dis- 
order. The most riotous offender shrunk from the reproof of 
that pale brow and intellectual eye. The reverence that 
attended him stilled the progress of disaffection, and to him 
belonged the rare power — exercised in the face of wondering 
Europe by Lamartine — of quelling by persuasion the spirit of 
revolt. . 

And could I forget thee, the soul of honor and the joy of 
friendship, George Butler — the most gallant of men, the 
most genial of spirits ! The profession of arms well accorded 
with his martial character, and though his plume was not 
destined to wave in the battle’s storm and the fortune of war 
confined his service to a barren field, yet no more devoted 
son rallied to the flag, under which he would have been proud 
to die for his country. Nor does the trump of Fame bear 
to the winds the echoes of a name where the soldier’s zeal 
was more gracefully blended with the tenderness of a gentle 
heart. 


316 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


But the youth instinct with great ideas, the scholar, the 
bard, the genius of the school, remains. How shall I describe 
thee, William Harper? Oarelss, simple and negligent, he 
lived apart in the world of his own genius — his imagination 
brought all things human and divine within the scope of his 
intellectual vision. For him it was equally easy to learn or 
to produce. It was not to be expected that such a mind 
could find occupation in any enforced routine. He was no 
candidate for the honors in College, though he received a 
distinguished appointment, in fulfilling which he delivered a 
poem, almost an improvisation on the death of Montgomery. 

It is very common to underrate the imagination as an 
element of power. It is imparted in a high degree to but few, 
and the opinion of the majority proceeds from imperfect and 
superficial knowledge of the subject. Works of the imagina- 
tion are measured by the standard of utility and condemned 
by common minds as frivolous. The character of genius 
suffers in the same way when tried by the estimate of pru- 
dence. Nor can it be denied that, for common affairs, 
originality and invention are of little value, nor that the 
finest parts must yield the palm to the intrinsic value of 
good sense. Fancy, imagination, memory, — nay, reason itself 
— are of little avail without the presence and moderation of 
that sober guardian. But the great mistake of the common 
judgment is to suppose that between genius and good sense 
there is some principle of opposition. The very reverse is 
true; good sense is essential to genius, and the example of 
William Harper is a striking corroboration of the truth. He 
was a true poet; of imagination all compact, and if he had 
given the reins to his genius would certainly have devoted 
himself to the Lyric Muse. But “dura res et — novitas ” — the 
exigencies of common life and the exigencies bestowed on 
literature determined otherwise, and he embraced the legal 
profession. How completely he refuted the idea that an 
imaginative or aesthetic mind is ill adapted to the severest 
legal studies is known to all South Carolina. His judgments, 
contained in Bailey, Hill and the later reporters, from 1830 
to 1847, are an eduring monument of his judicial fame, and 
his defence of the South on the relations existing between 
two races is so profound a conception, so masterly in execu- 


JAMES LOUIS PETIGBU 


317 


tion, as to cause a widespread regret that his pen was not 
more frequently employed in philosophical investigation. 

The distinguished men that have proceeded from this place 
furnish the best evidence of the successful cultivation of 
learning in this College. If we were to follow the stream of 
time we should meet with many a name to prompt the eulogy 
of departed worth, but I forbear. Though the ornaments of 
succeeding years might claim the tribute of friendship or 
challenge the praise of a more eloquent tongue, those con- 
temporary portraits are reflected in the glass of memory, 
and later years come not within the field of its vision. 
Rather is it within the purpose of this celebration to inquire 
how far the results have corresponded with the expectations 
of the friends of the College and what hopes may be reason- 
ably entertained of the future. 

As to the past, there is much ground for gratulation in 
the effect which this College has had in harmonizing and 
uniting the State. In 1804 sectional jealousies were sharp- 
ened to bitterness and there was as little unity of feeling 
between the upper and low-country as between any rival 
States of the Union. Although the suppression of such jeal- 
ousies, in part, attributable to the removal of some anomalies 
in the Constitution, much the largest share in the same good 
work is due to the attractive force of a common education. 
To the insensible operations of the same influence must also 
be referred the liberal provision that has been made for gen- 
eral education by the establishment of free schools. And if 
the benefits of such schools have not equalled the full measure 
of usefulness expected from the system the failure arises 
from peculiar circumstances, and affords no just cause for 
discouragement. Wherever there is a resident proprietary 
equal to the duty of their position these schools have not 
failed to answer the purpose of diffusing the elements of 
learning. Nor let the limited education of the poor be con- 
temned. It is much more the spirit of instruction than the 
amount which is imparted that interests the State. By the 
instruction received in the most backward school the learner 
is put in communication with a higher degree of learning. 
It is the natural order of things to proceed by steps, and if 
this gradation do not exist in the social fabric it is a serious 


318 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


defect. The influence of the college, like the ambient star, 
should extend on all sides — upwards to the regions of dis- 
covery and downwards to the smallest tenement of rudi- 
mental instruction. In this way the blessings of civilization 
are extended by a sound and healthy state of public opinion, 
and if we compare the progress which the State has made 
since 1804 we shall have no reason to withhold our assent 
from the conclusion that the hopes with which the College 
was inaugurated have not been disappointed. 

As to the future, we trust that the College will be true to 
its mission as the nurse of an enlightened public opinion. 
Prom this source should issue not only the rays of knowledge, 
but the light which disperses the mists of prejudice. Knowl- 
edge is a step in the improvement of society, but it is not 
the only desideratum. Very pernicious errors may prevail 
in the midst of much intellectual activity and opinions long 
discarded by cultivated minds may still exert a widespread 
and pernicious influence. In eradicating such weeds from 
the minds of the young the public instructor has an arduous 
duty, in which every encouragement is to be given to his 
efforts. It is in the college that the reformation of popular 
errors should begin. 


JAMES JOHNSTON PETTIGREW 


319 


JAMES JOHNSTON PETTIGREW 

James Johnston Pettigrew was born in Tyree County, 
North Carolina, July 4, 1828, was mortally wounded in a 
skirmish near Winchester, Virginia, during the retreat after 
the battle of Gettysburg, and died July 17, 1863. He gradu- 
ated at the University of North Carolina in 1843. So bril- 
liant was his scholarship that his career became a college 
tradition. For a short while he held the position of assistant 
professor in the National Observatory at Washington, but 
resigned to study law. After reading law in the office of 
James L. Petigru, he went to Berlin, where he studied for 
two years. On his return he practiced his profession in 
Charleston, and was sent to the legislature in 1856, where his 
ability gave him a commanding influence. In 1860 he again 
went to Europe and visited Spain. At the outbreak of war 
in 1861 he entered the service of the Confederacy and so dis- 
tinguished himself as an able and devoted officer that by 
1862 he had reached the grade of brigadier-general. He com- 
manded Heth’s division during the third day’s fight at 
Gettysburg, taking part in Pickett’s famous charge. An elo- 
quent Memorial of his Life and Services was written by 
William H. Trescot. 

General Pettigrew had his Spain and the Spaniards 
privately published in 1861, and circulated it among his 
friends. 


THE CATHEDRAL OF SEVILLE. 

(From Notes on Spain and the Spaniards, 1 1861.) 

The Cathedral, on my first visit, being closed, as the siesta 
was not quite over, I took a seat here to await the opening of 
the doors. The sun’s rays poured fiercely down, but within 


^This volume was kindly loaned the author by Hon. William A. Courtenay from 
his fine collection of Carolina writers. 


320 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

V 

all was delightfully fresh and cool. The altar-boys were 
engaged in the elevating occupation of standing on their 
heads for a wager, while in the next apartment, separated by 
a screen, some functionary snored away with the reverber- 
ating snort of a Mississippi high-pressure. The example was 
catching. I took one of the sweetest naps that ever fell to 
my lot. Soon the grating of the doors awakened me, and I 
entered the glorious edifice. Without all had been full of 
glare, almost blinding; here a faint, mellow twilight floated 
among the lofty columns, scarcely disturbing the solemn 
gloom which hushed one into an involuntary silence. The 
sound of footsteps was lost in its immensity, though its size 
could only be appreciated by comparison with some of the 
human species. Since leaving Seville, I have bad an oppor- 
tunity of revisiting most of the mediaeval cathedrals, and I 
can truly say that none of them compare with this in inspir- 
ing the feeling of grandeur in the object and humility in the 
subject, which is the peculiar merit of the Gothic architec- 
ture. I have twice been to the Minster of Strasbourg for 
the express purpose of comparing them, but it has appeared 
cold and impressionless — sterile, so to speak, whereas the 
soul must be hard indeed that can enter here and not feel 
inspired with an overwhelming sense of awe and reverence. 
Its founders were truly impressed with the divine conception 
of religion. Nowhere else is the Christian thought so appro- 
priately expressed in stone; and if I were to select the two 
edifices of Christendom that had most successfully attained 
the end for which they were erected, it would be the Cathe- 
drals of Milan and Seville, the exterior of the former and 
the interior of the latter being respectively all that could 
reasonably be demanded of architecture. 

The whole circuit of the Cathedral is a series of chapels 
and altars, with endless treasures of every description — a 
veritable museum. Its paintings would, of themselves, form 
a gallery as distinguished for excellence as for numbers. 
During a considerable part of the Waif of Independence, 
Marshal Soult reigned supreme in Andalusia, and, to speak 
in plain terms, robbed and stole whatever fell within his 
grasp. Nowhere in Europe did the Revolutionary Generals 
hesitate to melt down any ornament of the precious metals, 


JAMES JOHNSTON PETTIGREW 


321 


however beautiful and sacred. Such conduct, though strange 
in those who came ostensibly as benefactors, might have been 
forgiven, but Soult, not content with this, by a refined species 
of robbery, plundered works of art, Some, in anticipation 
of this invasion of vandals, had been removed to Cadiz, others 
hidden away in the vaults beneath, but such precautions did 
not always suffice, for the Chapter was occasionally com- 
pelled to produce its secret treasures by the threat of a 
military execution. . . .A number of magnificent 

Murillos were, however, preserved. The first chapel on. the 
left, entering from the Sagrario, contains a large altar-piece 
representing San Antonio de Padua kneeling before the 
infant Saviour, which is considered by many the master- 
work of the’ artist. Whether it be entitled to this pre- 
eminence may admit of a question, but it is a grand painting, 
one which improves with every visit. The picture is of large 
size, yet it would puzzle the critic to point out a fault. The 
somewhat unnatural subject, that is, unnatural when viewed 
from the experience of life, is clothed with dignity by the 
consummate hand of the master, and the devotion of the 
saint to a mere infant, produces none but the noblest impres- 
sion. The “Guardian Angel” leading a little child by the 
hand, which is an altar-piece near the western entrance, is 
entitled to all the admiration it has received. Nothing can 
surpass the benevolence of the Angel, who, with cherishing 
love and hope, points' to Heaven, or the confiding trust 
expressed in the countenance of the child, as it clings to the 
hand of its protector. It is one of those pictures which 
remain in the memory, and seems a vision of some previous 
stage of existence, ere man had fallen from his purity. 


322 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


CATHARINE GENDRON POYAS 

Catharine Gendron Poyas 1 was born at Charleston, 
South Carolina, in April, 1813, and died there in February, 
1882. Her grandfather was Dr. John Ernest Poyas, of 
Huguenot descent, and her grandmother, Catharine Smith, 
a great-granddaughter of the first Landgrave, Thomas Smith. 
It was in their home that she spent her early youth, but after 
her grandmother’s death she resided with her daughter, Mrs. 
Isaac Ball, until her home was broken up at the close of the 
war between the sections. From 1865 till her death, which 
came after a long and painful illness, she lived with her 
sister, Mrs. Charles Foster, and was buried at the old family 
mansion, “Yeaman’s Hall,” on Goose Creek, near Charleston. 

As early as 1849 Miss Poyas published in Charleston 
for private circulation a volume entitled The Huguenot 
Daughters, and Other Poems, which, on account of her 
ignorance of poetics, she considered rather crude. For the 
twenty succeeding years, under the guidance of her pastor, 
Bev. Cranmore Wallace, she devoted herself to the technical 
study of the art, and in 1869 brought out The Year of Grief 
and Other Poems, the title piece being a sequence of forty 
sonnets in memory of Bishop Gadsden and others who died 
in 1852. In this volume she not only attained a remarkable 
perfection of form and intensity of expression, but a far 
wider and richer range of imagination than in her earlier 
production. 2 


Hler mother, Elizabeth Ann Poyas (1792-1877), was also an author of note. 
Under the pseudonym of “The Ancient Lady” she published The Olden Time of 
Carolina, 1855 ; Our Forefathers, Their Homes and Their Churches, 1860, and Days 
of Yore, or Shadows of the Past, 1870. 

*For the above information the author is under obligation to the poet’s sister, 
Mrs. Anna Ball Dunham, of New Dorchester, Massachusetts. 


CATHERINE GENDRON POYAS 


323 


THE YEAR OF GRIEF — 1852. 

(Selected Sonnets.) 

11 

How strange that I unknowing and unknown, 

Filling my little nook so far away, 

Where summer suns with burning radiance play 
O’er fields of golden rice — where winter’s throne 
Is garlanded with flowers — and his zone 

Studded with sparkling gems — whose robes display 
The emerald tint of nature; that I may 
For friend of mine a noble poet own ! . 

One whose deep thoughts have moved the world I ween, 
(From where of royal blood, the British Queen 
Holdeth her loving state to where the sea 
Laves with green flood the Nation of the Free) — 

Causing all faithful souls to bow the knee 
To Jesus, in His Church and gospel seen. 

IX 

Hark to the voice of wailing ! Deep the woe 
Of our beloved Sion. On the ground 
In her sad widowhood, her locks unbound, 

She sits forlorn in sorrow. For her flow 
Her children’s bitter tears — and bending low, 

Her Priests her sacred Altars now surround 
Wrapped in deep grief and agony profound. 

What bodes this solemn, dim, funereal show? — 

The Angel of God’s Temple ta’en away ; 1 
Vicegerent here below of Jesus dead — 

Her spouse, her master. Therefore is her head 
Bowed as a bulrush, and her tresses grey 
Loose in the wintry winds disordered play: — 

Our Mother must the bitter wine-press tread. 

XI 

On whom shall thy descending mantle rest? 

Who is there strong enough to bear the weight 
And care of all the churches? — brave the hate 
Of Hydra-headed schisms? — on his breast 
Wear manfully the Spirit’s shield imprest? — 

And clad in the Heavenly armor never bate 
In holy zeal, though foes assail the gate 


bishop C. E. Gadsden, who died on June 24, 1852. 


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THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


And ancient walls of Sion? When distressed 
To bear her most in heart — and never quail 

Though ghostly foes against her bend their ire? — 
O sainted Bishop I 1 May thy prayers prevail, 
Floating as incense from thy heart of fire — 

Far, far above the bright angelic choir 
To the Eternal One — beyond the veil ! 

XXV 

Another and another — thus I tell 
My rosary of sorrow ; every bead 
A ruby drop from wounded hearts that bleed. 
Nun-like retired in thy spirit’s cell, 

Thou commun’st with the loud, convulsive swell 
Of thy great grief — Sister in heart and deed 
To our belovdd kinsman. But thy creed 
Instructs thee where to turn when sorrows dwell 
Deep in the soul. Building thy bower of Hope 
Beneath the cross, the gale of peace shall ope 
Love’s roses in thy breast, and glowing there 
Within thy ardent bosom’s pious scope 

Shall lend their perfume to the morning air, 

Their rosy petals moist with Memory’s tear. 

XL 

For he alone is worthy found to break 
The sevenfold signet of the Book of Doom, 

On that dread morning when from yawning tomb 
And hoary deep the startled dead shall wake, 

And ’round the pure white Throne of Judgment take 
In silent awe their stand. With hopeful plume, 

Or wing despondent shall each soul resume 
Its dwelling in the flesh. When Thou shalt make 
Thine angels from the just the bad divide 
May we be found rejoicing — we who weep, 

And those who have already fallen asleep 
In Jesus; and with palms triumphant glide 
In glad procession up the mountain steep 
Into the pearly portals with Thy Bride ! 


bishop Gadsden. 


CATHERINE GENDRON POYAS 


325 


GOOD NIGHT. 

(From the same.) 

Good night, beloved ones ! It is time for me 
To launch my bark upon the unfathomed sea 
That laves the headland of Eternity, 

Good night ! 

My skiff heaves the billow — and the air 
Seems full of strange, sad whispers. Do I hear 
The spirit voices of the unknown sphere? 

Good night! 

Methinks a storm is brooding in the sky — 

The stars have bid good night — the moon is shy 
To show her face in Heaven — come, draw ye nigh, 

Good night ! 

Draw nigh — nor while I linger let me miss 
The warm, soft pressure of each loving kiss — 
They take me back to days of childish bliss, 

Good night ! 

To days when by my Mother’s knee I prayed ; 

Or with ye, sisters, on the white sand strayed — 
This is another sea — I’m half afraid — 

Good night! 

Good night ! Good night ! O it is hard to go — 
But all those airy voices call me so — 

I must depart — Beloved ! That voice I know, 

Good night. 

It is my Mother’s! and it chides delay, 

And bids me trust in one has led the way 
Over Death’s gloomy tide — I fain obey, 

Good night. 

Good night! The gloom is almost gone — a ray 
Strikes on yon headland from approaching day — 
Sweet sisters one last kiss — and now away 

To Light ! 

22— W. 


326 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


AUTUMNAL MUSINGS. 

(From the same.) 

The year is dying out — the Autumnal breeze 
Sweeps o’er the forest trees, 

Awaking solemn music in the heart 
Attuned to bear her part 
In Nature’s diapason, and to hear 
God’s voice forever near ; 

Speaking in whispers low 
When Zephyrs blow 
O’er rosy bowers; 

And when the rude winds bow 
The pines as now, 

And tempest lowers. 

Now on the margin of the river 
The red and golden leaflets quiver, 

Heady to drop on flood or clay ; 

To float as fairy barks away, 

Or spread a carpet meet 
For stern December’s icy feet : 

Red the Sun, 

His day’s work done, 

Seeks his crimson couch of rest 
O’er Mount Kathrine’s modest crest, 

Without a sigh 
Like him may I 

Through golden portals pass, to rise 

After death’s tranquil sleep, in worlds beyond the skies. . 


WILLIAM CAMPBELL PRESTON 


327 


WILLIAM CAMPBELL PRESTON 

William Campbell Preston was born in 1794 at Phila- 
delphia, where his parents, who were Virginians, were 
residing during the sessions of Congress, of which his father 
was a member. He died at Columbia, South Carolina, in 
1860. At the age of fourteen he entered Washington College, 
but the next year, on account of threatened pulmonary 
trouble, his father sent him with a trusty servant on a horse- 
back journey to Florida. On reaching Columbia, S. C., he 
entered South Carolina College, from which he graduated 
in 1812. He then spent some time traveling in the West and 
in Europe, and took a law course in Edinburgh, where he 
roomed with Hugh S. Legard and enjoyed the acquaintance 
of Washington Irving, Thomas Campbell, and Sir Walter 
Scott. He began the practice of law in Virginia in 1820, but 
soon made his home in South Carolina. He quickly won 
fame by his eloquence and legal ability and was elected to 
the legislature in 1828, and served till 1834. He was then 
sent to the United States Senate, in which he was the col- 
league of John C. Calhoun. He was president of South 
Carolina College from 1845 to 1851, when ill health due to a 
paralytic stroke from which he never recovered caused his 
resignation. His Eulogy of Hugh S. Legard, delivered at 
Charleston in 1843, is perhaps the best specimen of his 
oratory. 

THE ELOQUENCE OF LEGARfi . 1 

(From the Eulogy on Hugh S. Legare, 1843.) 

The glory of eloquence was, for many years of his life, the 
chief object of his ambition. Our popular institutions 
demand a talent for speaking, and create a taste for it. 
Liberty and eloquence are united in all ages. Where the 

^his selection is taken from a bound volume of pamphlets kindly loaned the 
author by Mr. August Kohn, of Columbia. 


328 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


sovereign power is found in the public mind and the public 
heart, eloquence is the obvious approach to it. Power and 
honor, and all that can attract ardent and aspiring natures, 
attend it. The noblest instinct is to propagate the spirit, “to 
make our mind the mind of other men,” and wield the sceptre 
in the realms of passion. Smitten with the love, he devoted 
himself to the culture, of eloquence, from his boyhood. He 
was by nature endowed with an active imagination, warm 
sensibilities, a vigorous mind, and an easy flow of speech. 
To these lie added, as we have seen, all that labor could 
achieve; nor was he inattentive to the minuter accomplish- 
ments of the voice and gesture, which contribute, in their 
degree, to successful speaking, and, by the authority of the 
most illustrious examples, are shewn to be worthy of atten- 
tion. In his gesture it was a great triumph of art and per- 
severance to overcome defects, in which he eminently suc- 
ceeded. To improve his voice, it was his practice for many 
years to task it with long and varied declamations, trying 
it upon his ear with frequent repetition, to attain the exact 
intonation, for he properly conceived that there is “full many 
a tone” of thought and feeling beyond the reach of words or 
action, which are vibrated to the heart by the voice only. 
Besides these exercises, he subjected it to the more invigor- 
ating discipline of speaking in the open harbour, to a remote 
part of which he was occasionally rowed by his servant, 
where he declaimed upon the vacant air and sea, passages 
from the ancients or moderns, and sometimes whole speeches 
of Cicero. The result was, that he brought his voice to great 
perfection, especially in its loftier tones, to which, when it 
was tasked to the utmost, may be applied the words of 
Quintillian, quicquid immensum infinitiimque. 

The general characteristics of his style of speaking were 
similar to those of his writing; developed, of course, with 
greater elevation and intenseness, as speaking admits of a 
•wider range and bolder contrasts, from the highest ascent 
into the regions of passion, to the most familiar and collo- 
quial narrative. His method of constructing a speech was 
systematic and exact — the argument always forcibly con- 
ceived and skilfully concatenated, the occasional remarks 
acute and pregnant — and the learning and thought on the 


WILLIAM CAMPBELL PRESTON 


329 


immediate subject or collateral to it, most rich and abundant. 
The affluence of his knowledge and the quickness of his sensi- 
bility, gave him a tendency to amplitude and vehemence, 
which exposed his oratory to the charge of declamation, as his 
literary accomplishments had created a suspicion of his law 
knowledge — the same error arising from the same sources. 
In the art of speaking, as in all other arts, a just combination 
of those qualities necessary to the end proposed, is the true 
rule of taste. Excess is always wrong. Too much ornament 
is an evil — too little, also. The one may impede the progress 
of the argument, or divert attention from it, by the introduc- 
tion of extraneous matter — the other may exhaust attention 
or weary by monotony. Elegance is in a just medium. The 
safer side to err on, is that of abundance — as profusion is 
better than poverty; as it is better to be detained by the 
beauties of a landscape, than by the weariness of the desert. 
It is commonly, but mistakenly, supposed that the enforcing 
of truth is most successfully effected by a cold and formal 
logic ; but the subtleties of dialectics and the forms of logic, 
may play as fantastic tricks with truth, as the most potent 
magic of Fancy. 

His idea of the office and mission of the orator, was an 
exalted one. He concurred with the Archbishop of Cambray 
that “eloquence was not to be reckoned a frivolous art, that 
a declaimer uses to impose upon the weak imagination of the 
multitude, and to serve his own ends, but is a very serious art, 
designed to instruct people, to regulate their passions, and 
reform their manners — to direct public councils, and to make 
men good and happy.” 

Indeed, he approached all the offices of life with this lofty 
sentiment, and brought to all its duties a natural con- 
scientiousness and earnestness. He was ambitious, but it 
was a right and generous ambition, the ambition to excel, 
untarnished by sinister purposes or malignant passions. 
This conscientiousness and earnestness exercised an influence 
on his whole character and conduct. They induced ingen- 
uousness of temper and singleness of purpose, and communi- 
cated an intenseness to the performance of whatever he 
undertook. 

Their influence may be perceived in all he accomplished, 


330 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


and was felt in all that he proposed, and purified and elevated 
his character in whatever point of view we may consider it — 
either as a scholar, as a writer, as a statesman, as a lawyer, 
or as an orator; so that when our country proudly points to 
the catalogue of her sons in either of these departments, there 
will be conspicuous upon it the name of Hugh S. Legard 


DAVID RAMSAY 


331 


DAVID RAMSAY 

David Ramsay was born in Lancaster County, Pennsyl- 
vania, April 2, 1749, and died at Charleston, South Carolina, 
May 8, 1815. After graduating at Princeton, he taught for 
several years. He then studied medicine at the University of 
Pennsylvania, and removed to Charleston, where he practised 
his profession with great success. He was a member of the 
legislature, 1776-1783, and did much to aid the Revolutionary 
cause, but after the capture of Charleston in 1780 he was 
confined for eleven months at St. Augustine by the British. 
After the Revolution he was a delegate to the Continental 
Congress, 1782-1783 and 1785-1786, and was president of the 
Senate of his native State for several years. He died from 
injuries which he received from a maniac whom he had 
examined professionally. His first wife was a daughter of 
the Revolutionary patriot, John Witherspoon, and his second 
a daughter of the famous Henry Laurens. 

Dr. Ramsay’s published works include A Sermon on Tea 
(from the text, “Touch not, taste not, handle not”) ; History 
of the Revolution in South Carolina, 1785; History of the 
American Revolution, 2 vols., 1789; Life of George Washing- 
ton, 1807 ; History of South Carolina from its Settlement 
in 1670 to the Year 1808, 2 vols., 1809; Memoir of Martha 
Laurens Ramsay; and History of the United States, after- 
wards continued and incorporated in a universal history. 
Besides these historical writings, he published numerous 
medical works. 

THE DEFENCE OF FORT MOULTRIE. 

(From The History of South Carolina, 1809.) 

In the close of the year 1775, and the beginning of the year 
1776, great preparations had been made in Great Britain to 
invade the American colonies with a force sufficient to compel 
submission. With this view, early in 1776 upwards of fifty 


332 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


thousand men were employed in active operations against 
America. Part of this force was ordered to the southward, 
to carry into effect in that quarter the designs of the British 
ministry. In South Carolina every exertion had been made 
to put the province, especially its capital, in a respectable 
posture of defence. As one means conducing thereto, the 
popular leaders had erected works on Sullivan’s Island. This 
is a very convenient port for annoying ships approaching the 
town. At the time the British fleet appeared off the coast, 
about twenty-six heavy cannon, twenty-six eighteen and nine 
pounders were mounted at Sullivan’s Island, on a fort con- 
structed with palmetto. This is a tree peculiar to the 
Southern States, which grows from twenty to forty feet high, 
without branches, and then terminates in something resem- 
bling the head of a cabbage. The wood of it is remarkably 
spongy. A bullet entering it makes no splinters nor extended 
fracture, but buries itself without injuring the parts adja- 
cent. 

On the first of J une, 177 6, advices were received in Charles- 
ton that a fleet of forty or fifty sail were at anchor about six 
leagues to the northward of Sullivan’s Island. The next day 
the alarm was fired, and expresses sent to the officers 
commanding the militia in the country to repair to Charles- 
ton. 

On the 25th, the Experiment, a fifty-gun ship, arrived near 
the bar ; and on the 26th, her guns being previously taken out, 
she got safely over. 

On the 28th, the fort on the Island was briskly attacked 
by the two fifty-gun ships, Bristol and Experiment, four 
frigates, the Active, Acteon, Solebay, Syren, each of twenty- 
eight guns, the Sphynx, of twenty guns, the Friendship, an 
armed vessel of twenty-two guns, Ranger sloop, and Thunder- 
Bomb, each of eight guns. Between ten and eleven o’clock 
the Thunder-Bomb began to throw shells. The Active, 
Bristol, Experiment, and Solebay, came boldly on to the 
attack. A little before eleven o’clock the garrison fired four 
or five shot at the Active while under sail. When she came 
near the fort she dropped anchor, and poured in a broad side. 
Her example was followed by the three other vessels, and a 
most tremendous cannonade ensued. The Thunder-Bomb, 


DAVID RAMSAY 


333 


after having thrown about sixty shells, was so damaged as 
to be incapacitated from firing. Colonel Moultrie, with three 
hundred and forty-five regulars, and a few volunteer militia, 
made a defence that would have done honor to experienced 
veterans. During the engagement the inhabitants stood with 
arms in their hands at their respective posts, prepared to 
receive the British wherever they might land. Impressed 
with high ideas of British bravery, and diffident of the maiden 
courage of their own new troops, they were apprehensive that 
the forts would either be silenced or passed, and that they 
should be called to immediate action. The various passions 
of the mind assumed alternate sway, and marked their coun- 
tenances with anxious fears or cheerful hopes. Their reso- 
lution was fixed to meet the invaders at the water’s edge, and 
dispute every inch of ground, trusting the event to Heaven 
and preferring death to slavery. 

The Sphynx, Acteon, and Syren, were sent round to attack 
the western extremity of the fort. This was so unfinished as 
to afford very imperfect cover to the men at the guns in that 
part, and also so situated as to expose the men in the other 
parts of the fort to a very dangerous cross-fire. Providence, 
on this occasion, remarkably interposed in behalf of the 
garrison and saved them from a fate, which, in all proba- 
bility, would otherwise have been inevitable. About twelve 
o’clock, as the three last mentioned ships were advancing to 
attack the western wing of the fort, they all got entangled 
with a shoal called the Middle Ground ; two of them ran foul 
of each other. The Acteon stuck fast. The Sphynx, before 
she cleared herself, lost her bowsprit; but the Syren got off 
without much injury. The ships in front of the fort kept up 
their fire till near seven o’clock in the evening without inter- 
mission ; after that time it slackened. At half-past nine the 
firing on both sides ceased; and at eleven the ships slipped 
their cables. Next morning all the men-of-war, except the 
Acteon, had retired about two miles from the Island. The 
garrison fired several shots at the Acteon; she at first 
returned them, but soon after the crew set her on fire and 
abandoned her ; leaving her colors flying, guns loaded, and all 
her ammunition and stores. She was in a short time boarded 
by a party of Americans, commanded by Captain Jacob Mil- 


334 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ligan. While flames were bursting out on all sides they fired 
three of her guns at the Commodore, and then quitted her. 
In less than half an hour after their departure she blew up. 
The Bristol had forty men killed and seventy-one wounded. 
Every man, who was stationed in the beginning of the action 
on her quarter deck, was either killed or wounded. The 
Experiment had twenty-three killed and seventy-six wounded. 
Lord William Campbell, the late Governor of the province, 
who, as a volunteer, had exposed himself in a post of danger, 
received a wound which ultimately proved mortal. The fire 
of the fort was principally directed against the Bristol and 
Experiment; and they suffered very much in their hulls, 
masts, and rigging. Not less than seventy balls went through 
the former. The Acteon had Lieutenant Pike killed and six 
men wounded. After some days the troops were all reem- 
barked, and the whole sailed for New York. 

The loss of the garrison was ten men killed and twenty- 
two wounded. Lieutenants Hall and Gray were among the 
latter. Though there were many thousand shot fired from the 
shipping, yet the works were little damaged: those which 
struck the fort were ineffectually buried in its soft wood. 
Hardly a hut or tree on the Island escaped. 

When the British appeared off the coast there was so 
scanty a stock of lead, that to supply the musketry with 
bullets, it became necessary to strip the windows of the dwell- 
ing houses in Charleston of their weights. Powder was also 
very scarce. The proportion allotted for the defence of the 
fort was but barely sufficient for slow firing. This was ex- 
pended with great deliberation. The officers in their turn 
pointed the guns with such exactness that most of their shot 
took effect. In the beginning of the action the flag-staff was 
shot away. Sergeant Jasper of the grenadiers immediately 
jumped on the beach, took up the flag, and fastened it on a 
sponge-staff. With it in his hand he mounted the merlon; 
and, though the ships were directing their incessant broad- 
sides at the spot, he deliberately fixed it. The day after the 
action President Rutledge presented him with a sword, as a 
mark of respect for his distinguished valor. Sergeant 
McDonald, of Captain Huger’s company, was mortally 
wounded by a cannon ball. He employed the short interval 


DAVID RAMSAY 


335 


between his wound and his death in exhorting his comrades 
to continue steady in the cause of liberty and their country. 

This ill-conducted expedition contributed greatly to estab- 
lish the popular government which it was intended to overset. 
The friends of America triumphed. Unacquainted with the 
vicissitudes of war, some of them began to flatter themselves 
their work was done and their liberties established. In oppo- 
sition to the bold assertions of some, and the desponding fears 
of others, experience proved that Americans might effectually 
resist a British fleet and army. The diffident grew bold in 
their country’s cause, and looked forward to the completion 
of their wishes for its liberty and independence. 


336 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


AUGUSTUS JULIAN REQUIER 

Augustus Julian Requier was born at Charleston in 
1825, and died in 1887. He was decended from French stock, 
was educated in the schools of his native city, and was ad- 
mitted to the bar in 1844. In 1842 he published a play in 
blank verse entitled The Spanish Exile, which was acted 
with success, and gave him popularity as an author. Two 
years later appeared The Old Sanctuary, a pre-revolutionary 
romance. After practising his profession for a short time, 
he removed to Marion, where he resided for four or five years. 
From 1850 to 1865 he resided in Mobile, where in 1853 he was 
appointed United States attorney for the Southern District 
of Alabama. During the war he held the office of Confed- 
erate States attorney for Alabama. He afterwards made his 
home in New York City, where he practised law until his 
death. 

Judge Requier was the author of The Spanish Exile, 1842; 
The Old Sanctuary, A Romance of South Carolina, 1844; 
Marco Bozzaris, A Tragedy; Crystalline, and Other Poems, 
1859. Among his best poems are “Ashes of Glory,” “Only a 
Dream,” “Clouds in the West,” “Who Was It?” “The Legend 
of Tremaine,” 1862, “Ode to Shakespeare,” and “Ode to 
Victory,” 1862. He also wrote a number of essays which 
were published in various periodicals. 

ASHES OF GLORY. 

(From Simms’s War Poetry of the South, 1867.) 

Fold up the gorgeous silken sun, 

By bleeding martyrs blest, 

And heap the laurels it has won 
Above its place of rest. 

No trumpet’s note need harshly blare — 

No drum funereal /roll — 

Nor trailing sables drape the bier 
That frees a dauntless soul ! 


AUGUSTUS JULIAN REQU1ER 


33 


It lived with Lee, and decked his brow 
From Fate’s empyreal Palm : 

It sleeps the sleep of Jackson now — 
As spotless and as calm. 


It was outnumbered — not outdone; 

And they shall shuddering tell, 
Who struck the blow, its latest gun 
Flashed ruin as it fell. 


Sleep, shrouded Ensign ! not the breeze 
That smote the victor tar, 

With death across the heaving seas 
Of fiery Trafalgar ; 


Nor Arthur’s knights, amid the gloom 
Their knightly deeds have starred ; 
Nor Gallic Henry’s matchless plume, 
Nor peerless-born Bayard; 


Not all that antique fables feign, 
And Orient dreams disgorge; 
Nor yet, the Silver Cross of Spain, 
And Lion of St. George, 


Can bid thee pale! Proud emblem, still 
Thy crimson glory shines 
Beyond the lengthened shades that fill 
Their proudest kingly lines. 


Sleep! in thine own historic night, — 
And be thy blazoned scroll, 

A warrior’s Banner takes its flight, 
To greet the warrior’s soul ! 


338 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


ONLY A DREAM. 

(From the Same.) 

By the lake beyond the meadow, 

Where the lilies blow — 

As the young moon dipt and lifted 
Her reflected bow! — 

Lived and died a dream of beauty, 

Many years ago. 

Something made the milk-white blossoms 
Even whiter grow; 

Something gave the dying sunset 
An intenser glow, 

And enriched the cup of rapture, 

Filled to overflow. 

Hope was frail, and Passion fleeting — 

It is often so; 

Visions born of golden sunsets 
With the sunsets go; 

To have loved is to have suffered 
Martyrdom below ! 

By the lake beyond the meadow, 

Where the lilies blow — 

Oh ! the glory there that perished, 

None shall ever know — 

When a human heart was broken, 

Many years ago ! 


ROBERT BARNWELL RHETT 


339 



ROBERT BARNWELL RHETT 

Robert Barnwell Rhett was born at Beaufort, South 
Carolina, in 1800, and died September 14, 1876. He was 
elected attorney-general of the State in 1833, and acted with 
the nullification party. In 1850 he became a United States 
Senator. On the election of Lincoln in 1860, he was a mem- 
ber of the State Convention which passed the ordinance of 
secession, and drew up the address giving reasons for this 
measure. 

Among his most important writings are three Letters on 
the Right of Debate, and Speeches on the Annexation of 
Texas, 1845, the Western Harbor and River Bill of 1844, the 
Right of Petition, 1844, the Oregon Territory Bill of 1847, 
the Tariff Bill of 1844, An Appeal to the Democratic Party, 
and on the President’s Message in 1848. 

EULOGY OF CALHOUN. 

(From an Oration on the Life, Services, and Character of John C. Calhoun. 1 ) 

. Aristotle, Locke, Sydney, Russell, Hume, were 
theoretical statesmen. Pericles, Walpole, Chatham, Fox, 
Peel, were practical statesmen. Burke was both a theoretical 
and a practical statesman — and the greatest in the combina- 
tion of all the qualifications of statesmanship England has 
ever produced. But, unfortunately, he lived at a time, and 
amidst circumstances, which induced him to lean on the side 
of order, privilege and government, rather than that of 
liberty. Mr. Calhoun, although his inferior in cultivation 
and in the gorgeous splendor of his imagination — was not 
his inferior in naked reasoning, deep analysis, and a pro- 
found knowledge of the principles of free government. The 
one had the British Constitution, with all its anomalies and 
abuses, to defend — the other, the Constitution of the United 


delivered November 28, 1850. 


340 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


States, in its federative and free principles, (the most won- 
derful political production of the world) to elucidate and 
enforce. Burke exhibited a more beautiful afflorescence — 
but Calhoun the soundest fruit. In theoretic statesmanship, 
Aristotle, from amongst the ancients, will, probably, alone 
stand beside him; but as a practical statesman, many, both 
in ancient and modern times, may rank above him; because 
he failed in enforcing his policy. But he did not look to his 
personal success, nor to the practical enforcement of his 
policy, as the measure of his fame. He looked to future 
ages ; and trusting to the improvement of men in civilization, 
and the extension of free government, he anticipated the 
happy period, when the liberties of the world, in a thousand 
Republics, would rest on the mighty foundations his genius 
had wrought out and laid down for their erection and eternal 
duration. . . . Mr. Calhoun, doubtless, believed the 

great principles of free government he originated and advo- 
cated, to be as eternal as truth itself, and as lasting as man ; 
and was he not animated, too, with the inspiring hope, that 
his name would live with them in all after ages? Thousands 
of generous spirits, since the entrance of civilized man on 
this continent, have lived and died with the hope of a pro- 
longed fame amongst future generations ; but I can discover 
but two men who will probably obtain this fame — Washing- 
ton and Calhoun — the former, as the founder of a great 
Republic — the latter, as the discoverer of the true principles 
of free government. 

Mr. Calhoun’s mind, in its characteristics, was as striking 
as it was great. It stood forth like the Egyptian Pyramids — 
vast, simple, and grand. It was essentially Southern, with 
none of that affectation, pretension and glitter about it, 
which deforms the literature and oratory of the Northern 
people. Meretricious ornament was as unsuitable to it as 
verdure on the top of the highest Andes. No flowers grew on 
the banks of the mighty river of his thoughts, as it broke its 
way through mountains, and left rocks and gigantic cliffs 
beetling over it. Yet there is an earnestness and elevation in 
his language, which bears the mind on, as if on a swift, deep 
current. His close, compact and impregnable logic, moved 
with the precision and measured tread of a Spartan phalanx. 


KOBERT BARNWELL RHETT 


341 


Stone upon stone, he reared the pile of his fair argument, 
until at length it stood a lofty temple, with its steeples and 
domes looking up to heaven, and bathed in the light of eternal 
truth. . 

We mourn our loss; — but, standing over his remains, we 
cannot but hate the tyranny that hurried him to his grave, — 
and love the liberty for which he lived, and wasted, and died. 
Cherishing his memory, we dare not be slaves. Looking to 
his example and precepts, we must and will be free. If his 
home, whilst living, was sacred to purity and honour, his 
last resting place shall not be polluted by the foul footsteps 
of traitors to liberty. And, when over the long track of ages 
to come, the star of his genius shall still shine on, to lead 
the nations to freedom, — it shall not be forgotten that South 
Carolina, the land of his nativity, reared him — sustained 
him — and honored him to the last. 


•M -W. 


342 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


GEORGE HERBERT SASS 

George Herbert Sass, “Barton Grey,” was born at 
Charleston, December 24, 1845, and died there February 10, 
1908. His entire life was spent in his native city. He grad- 
uated at the College of Charleston, in 1867, with the highest 
honors, as valedictorian of his class. After studying law for 
two years in the office of Charles Richardson Miles, he was 
admitted to the bar. From the beginning of his practice he 
was much sought after in cases in which a referee of clear 
judgment was required. In February, 1883, he was appointed 
a Master in Equity, an office which he retained throughout 
life by successive reappointments and, in the last two terms, 
by popular election. A man of the highest integrity of char- 
acter, well versed in the law, and of a marked judicial tem- 
perament, Sass was peculiarly well equipped for the office 
which he not only ably filled but adorned. Only in rare 
instances was an appeal taken to a higher court. In 1902 he 
was awarded the degree of LL. D. by his alma mater, an honor 
which he wore most gracefully. 

Sass is best known, as a man of letters, under the pen-name 
of “Barton Grey.” He began to write verses during the civil 
war, and received a prize with one of his patriotic poems in 
a competition. Not long after his graduation he became 
attached to the literary staff of The News and Courier, and 
his rarely excellent reports of lectures, dramatic criticisms, 
and book reviews were regarded among the most interesting 
features of its Sunday edition. His poems were collected in 
1904 under the title of “The Heart’s Quest: A Book of 
Verses.” Among his occasional poems should be mentioned 
an “Ode for the Opening of the South Carolina Inter-State 
and West Indian Exposition” (1900), and an “Ode to the 


GEORGE HERBERT SASS 


343 


Confederate Dead,” lines from which are found on the 
memorial tablet in St. Michael’s Church. 

The following beautiful and discerning appreciation is 
from the pen of Dr. Stanhope Sams, literary editor of the 
Columbia State: 

“With whatever qualifications we feel should be taken, 
it must be recognized that George Herbert Sass left for us 
and for later generations a very liberal and substantive con- 
tribution to our poetry. We have already said that, as a poet 
he stands first, since Timrod. If we make one other excep- 
tion — Hayne — he may be, without challenge, accorded the 
third rank among the poets of his State, and a very high 
station among the poets of the South and of the country. 
Two or three of his poems will probably remain as perma- 
nent acquisitions to our small stock of noble poetry. This 
is a large achievement, for many a poet has won his fame by 
a single felicitous song or a few haunting lines. One of the 
most pleasing qualities of Mr. Sass’s verse is its positive 
though not obtrusive literary flavor. In this respect much 
of his writing suggests Arnold, and it was, we believe, con- 
fessed by him, that Arnold, if any one, was his literary guide. 
There is ever present the note of culture and refinement. 
This fine quality is as marked in the classic form and phrase 
of his verse as it is in the manner of treatment and the point 
of view. This of course adds dignity to his thought, melodi- 
ousness to his lines, and distinction to his style. These qual- 
ities and this grace will be found in every line of the exquisite 
poem, ‘In a King-Cambyses Vein.’ That poem and his 
beautiful verses on ‘Joan Mellish” are, perhaps, the best 
fruits of his pen. There are other poems that are rare and 
fine, many that are elevated and worthy; but these seem to 
us to ring truer and to sing themselves into the heart with a 
more exquisite and a more memorable music than any of his 
other songs.” 


344 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


IN A KING-CAMBYSES VEIN. 1 

(From The Heart’s Quest, 1904.) 

Cambyses, King of the Persians, 

Sat with his lords at play 

Where the shades of the broad plane-branches 
Slanted athwart the way. 

And he listened and heard Prexaspes 
Tell to his fellows there 

Of a Bactrian bowman’s prowess, 

And skill beyond compare. 

And the heart of the King was bitter, 

And he turned and said to him: 

“Dost see on the greensward yonder 
That plane-tree’s slender limb? 

“It stands far off in the gloaming — 

Dost think that Bactrian could 

With a single shaft unerring 

Smite through that slender wood?” 

“But nay,” then said Prexaspes, 

“Nor ever a mortal man 

Since the days when Nimrod hunted 
Where great Euphrates ran.” 

Then Cambyses, son of Cyrus, 

Looked and before him there 

Meres, the King’s cup-bearer, 

Stood where the wine flowed clear. 

Meres, the King’s cup-bearer, 

Prexaspes’ only son, 

And the heart of the King was hardened, 

And the will of the King was done. 


^This and the succeeding poems of Sass are here given by courtesy of his pub- 
lishers, G. P. Putnam’s Sons. 


GEOEGE HERBERT SASS 


345 


And he said : “Bind Meres yonder 
To the plane-tree’s slender stem, 

And give me yon sheaf of arrows 
And the bow that lies by them.” 

And so, when the guards had bound him, 

He drew the shaft to the head; 

“Give heed ! give heed, Prexaspes, 

I aim for the heart !” he said. 

Sharp through the twilight stillness 
Echoed the steel-bow’s twang, 

Loud through the twilight stillness 
The courtiers’ plaudits rang. 

And the head of the boy drooped downward, 
And the quivering shaft stood still ; 

And the King said, “O Prexaspes, 

Match I thy Bactrian’s skill?” 

Then low before Oambyses 
The Satrap bowed his head — 

“O great King, live forever ! 

Thou hast cleft the heart !” he said. 


THE CONFEDERATE DEAD. 

How grand a fame this marble watches o’er ! 

Their Wars behind them — God’s great Peace before. 
They fought, they failed, yet, ere the bitter end, 
Them, too, did Fortune wondrously befriend. 

They never knew, as we who mourn them know, 

How vain was all their strife, how vast our woe : 
And now the Land they gave their lives to save 
Beturns them all she has to give — a Grave ! 


346 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


JOAN MELLISH. 

Where art thou now, Joan Mellish? 

Spring with its smiles slips past ; 

The great red rose in the convent close 
Crimsons and glows at last ; 

And with the time of roses 
Old hopes new life assume, 

Where art thou then, Joan Mellish? 

Shall naught thine eyes relume? 

Thy step was free and stately 

As the step of the mountain fawn ; 

Thy cheek’s first flush like the rosy blush 
In the first sweet hush of dawn; 

And, oh, thy heart, Joan Mellish, 

Was just the truest heart 
That ever the dear God sent below 
To bear an earthly part. 


I seek for thee, Joan Mellish, 

At morn, at noon, at eve; 

I turn and turn, I pant and burn, 

I strive and yearn and grieve ; 

But not for sigh or whisper, 

For passionate sob or cry, 

Dost thou come back, my love, my life, 
And still the years go by. 


Thou wilt not come, Joan Mellish, 

Thy feet the earth-dust holds; 

Where strangers pass the long grave-grass 
Thy couch, alas, enfolds. 

And I, thine earthly lover — 

Ah me, how far am I 
From that dark home of thine below, 
From thy bright home on high ! 


GEORGE HERBERT SASS 


347 


But, as the twilight deepens, 
Where’er my footsteps stray, 

I seek thee still by vale and hill, 

By lake and rill and bay ; 

But still the earth is empty, 

And still my heart is sore, 

Because thy face, Joan Mellish, 
Shines on me nevermore. 

Ah me, the bitter parting 
Of love that is not hope ! 

Farewell for aye, Dear Heart ! astray 
In doubt’s dark way I grope ; 

My eyes are dim with seeking 
The face they cannot see. 

Farewell, farewell, Joan Mellish, 

A long farewell to thee! 


ROBERT EDWARD DEE. 

Only a gray head bowed upon its pillow ; 

Only a stout heart stilled forevermore; 

Only the ebbing of one transient billow 
Back to its far fount on the other shore. 

Surely a prophet is not without honor 

Save in his own land, where his own folk dwell. 
And what is Fame? What eye can look upon her? 
What magic bind her with what subtle spell? 

Not ours only, but the wide world’s glory, 

That old man in that calm Virginia home, 

Writing the last words of his life’s grand story 
With patient hand, until the Voice said “Come” ! 

There were who from behind war’s bloody curtain 
Caught gracious glimpses of the Eternal Peace; 
Passed in the battle’s smoke and din uncertain 
Up to the Home where pain and danger cease. 


348 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


But this man, when the bitter strife was over, 

Turned back again his quiet life to live ; 

Clave to his country an all-faithful lover ; 

Taught her to bear whom erst he taught to strive. 

When the sheaf ripens puts He in the sickle, 

Gathers the full ear from the unkindly sod, 

Where skies are dark and summer winds are fickle, 
Into the ample Granary of God. 

And we — we weep him not whose task is ended, 
Whose glorious failure outshines all success; 
Though on his grave a whole world’s tears descended, 
We could not love him more — nor mourn him less. 


MARY PALMER SHINDLER 


349 


MARY PALMER SHINDLER 

Mary Palmer Shindler was born at Beaufort, South 
Carolina, in 1810, and died at Shelbyville, Kentucky, about 
1880. She was a daughter of the celebrated pulpit orator, 
Dr. Benjamin M. Palmer, of New Orleans. In 1814 she was 
taken by her parents to Charleston, where she became a 
pupil in the school conducted by the daughter of Dr. Ramsay, 
the historian. Her education was afterwards continued at 
various seminaries for young ladies in Connecticut and in 
New Jersey. She was twice married in 1835 and in 1848, 
her first husband being Charles E. Dana, of New York, and 
her second Rev. Robert D. Shindler, an Episcopal clergyman. 
In 1850 they removed to Maryland, and afterwards to Shelby- 
ville, Kentucky, where her husband held a professorship in 
Shelby College. 

Mrs. Shindler was the author of The Southern Harp, 1841 ; 
The Northern Harp; The Parted Family, and Other Poems; 
Charles Morton, or The Young Patriot, 1843, a story of the 
Revolution; The Young Sailor, Forecastle Tom, and Letters 
to Relatives and Friends, 1845. 


THE FADED FLOWER. 

(From The Parted Family, and Other Poems.) 

I have seen a fragrant flower 
All impearled with morning dew ; 

I have plucked it from the bower, 
Where in loveliness it grew. 

Oh, ’twas sweet, when gayly vying 
With the garden’s richest bloom; 
But when faded, withered, dying, 
Sweeter far its choice perfume. 


350 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


So the heart, when crushed by sorrow, 
Sends its richest streams abroad, 
While it learns sweet balm to borrow 
From the uplifted hand of God. 

Not in its sunny days of gladness 
Will the heart be fixed on Heaven; 
When ’tis wounded, clothed in sadness, 
Oft its richest love is given. 


WILLIAM HAYNE SIMMONS 


351 


WILLIAM HAYNE SIMMONS 

William Hayne Simmons was born at Charleston in 1784, 
and died there on June 14, 1870. He was buried in Magnolia 
Cemetery. He was descended from Doctor Henry Wood- 
ward, the first settler in South Carolina. In 1806 he grad- 
uated from the medical department of the University of 
Pennsylvania, but never practiced. For some time he resided 
in Charleston, whence he removed to East Florida, where he 
divided his interests between writing poetry and managing 
an orange plantation. He was one of the commissioners with 
General Gadsden who drew up the treaty providing for the 
removal of the Seminole Indians to the West. His brother, 
James Wright Simmons, was also a well-known author. 1 

Doctor Simmons frequently contributed to The Southern 
Quarterly, and some of his essays were published in London 
under the title of American Sketches. He wrote a History 
of the Seminoles, and published a volume of poems, which 
contains, among other verse, Onea (afterwards revised and 
renamed Alasco), and two poems called The Wilderness, in 
which the descriptive and the contemplative are beautifully 
blended. 2 


Barnes Wright Simmons was born at Charleston about 1790 and died at Mem- 
phis in his sixty-eighth year. About 1817 he published The Exile’s Return, and a 
little later Memnon. He was at different times connected with The Mirror , The 
Courier and Examiner 3 The Evening Star 3 and the Galveston Banner 3 and was a 
frequent contributor to other newspapers and magazines. His much admired 
Recollections of the Campaign in East Florida were first published in The Star . 
At one time he was comptroller-general and at another treasurer of the Texan 
Republic. His Greek Girl, a tale in two cantos, was published in Boston in 1852. 
He was also the author of an elaborate treatise on The Moral Character of Lord 
Byron. 

2 For much of the material for the above sketch the author is indebted to Joseph 
W. Barnwell, Esq., of Charleston. The data in regard to James W. Simmons were 
taken from King’s Newspaper Press of Charleston . 


352 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. 

(From Simms’s Charleston Book, 1845.) 

Beguiled by vision vain, 

Full long the adventurer stretched his sail, 

O’er seas unknown; 

Bound on a voyage wild and lone, 

The wondrous fount to gain, 

By Indian fable placed 
In secret vale, 

And land sequestered far in ocean’s trackless waste ; 
The draught miraculous to fill, 

That chased of age the wintry chill, 

And spite of time, 

Made bright the brow once more, 

New vigor to life’s weary springs could give, 
And youth’s new blooming prime, 

With all its joys restore. 

There sun-bows fresh the flowery purlieus crowned, 
And bowers of laughing bliss rose radiant round; 
Here youth immortal, from the enchanted wave, 
Bright as the morn, victorious o’er the grave, 

His graceful limbs in careless beauty thrown, 

On surge-like shell, 

Whose foamy prow, 

The winged loves and blisses gay impel, 

With smiling brow, 

Holds high the Amreeta cup, 

Filled with the elixir bright, the ambrosial dew, 

Of life to the pilgrim pale, 

By age down grown, 

And bids him drink it up, 

And with the draught forget his sorrows flown ; 

Bids him retrace the vale 
Of years, and to the bowers of youth return ; 

Bloom with its bloom, and with its fires re-burn, 

And crop its joys anew. 


WILLIAM HAYNE SIMMONS 


353 


Such was the vision fair of western skies 
That played before the fond sea-wanderer’s eyes, 

Like mirage o’er the watery syrt receding, 

And onward still its follower, treacherous leading. . . . 

Oh, vain the thought ! Oh, wild the dream ! 

Again, on earth, to find 

The flowers, death-trodden on life’s weary way, 

That glittered in its morning beam 

A space, fair smiling with the hues of hope, 

Those blooms that will not last, 

E’en then when soft the dallying wind, 

And laughing, vernal season woo their stay, 

But flee, a fragile race, the pageants of a day, 

That do but ope, 

To fade and leave behind 

The tears that swelled within their infant eyes, 

As if prophetic of the coming blast 
And changing skies 

That shed no twilight gleam, 

And see no star arise 
After their sun has set. 

Oh ! rather sure, in Lethe’s stream, 

’Twere happier to forget 
The past, and all the pangs remembrance brings, 

The promises bright 

Of hope’s false rainbow, that delusive springs; 

Whether midst sorrow’s tears, 

Or in life’s morning sky its smile appears ; 

Than the sad mockery to prove 

Of youth, without its joys renewed ; 

O’er buried love 

And friendship lost, to weep ; affection’s flight 
To feel; the weary cares 
Of age, and all its solitude, 

Without its promised rest; 

Like cold Aurora over region dead, 

Wandering unblest, 

Where the pale hours nor dew nor blossoms shed, 
Hoping, in vain, the day that rises never ; 

Beauteous and sad, forlorn and restless, ever, 

Environed still by wastes of death and ever-during night. 


354 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 

William Gilmore Simms was born at Charleston, April 
17, 1806, and died there, June 11, 1870. He was of Scotch- 
Irish descent, and his family was poor. While in his boyhood 
he was apprenticed to a druggist, and thus gained but little 
education at school. In 1824 he studied law, then visited his 
father who was residing in the Southwest, returned and was 
admitted to the bar in 1827. In his twenty-first year he mar- 
ried and published a volume of juvenile verse. He now 
discovered that literature was his first love, gave up the law, 
helped to found a short-lived magazine, and became, in 1829, 
editor and owner of the City Gazette and Daily Advertiser 
of Charleston. He made himself extremely unpopular by 
his opposition to nullification, and his newspaper office came 
near being mobbed. On the death of his young wife he went 
for a prolonged residence to Hingham, Massachusetts, where 
he wrote his long poem, Atalantis, a Tale of the Sea, in 1832. 
By 1833 he discovered his real vocation in fiction, and pub- 
lished Martin Faber, the Story of a Criminal. This was fol- 
lowed by Guy Rivers, the first of the exciting series of Border 
Romances and Revolutionary Romances, which made a lit- 
erary sensation. In 1836 he married again, and settled down, 
with the exception of a few terms in the legislature, to a 
busy literary life at his plantation “Woodlands,” near Barn- 
well, South Carolina. During the cooler months he wrote 
and dispensed the hospitality of a country gentleman, and 
in the summer he went North to be near his publishers. His 
literary activity was extraordinary, no fewer than thirty 
romances, thirty-four long magazine articles, numerous 
reviews, three dramas, eighteen volumes of poems, and a num- 
ber of histories and biographies coming from his versatile 
and prolific pen. He was editorially connected with nine 
magazines and newspapers including the Southern Quarterly 
Review, Southern and Western Monthly Magazine and 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


355 


Review (usually known as Simm’s Magazine ) , Russell’s 
Magazine, etc. He was besides an unwearied letter writer 
and occasional lecturer, and was the soul and center of the 
famous coterie of literary men in Charleston, which included 
Hayne, Timrod, Bruns, and Dickson. The war brought dis- 
aster: his house was burned, his wife, some of his children, 
and old friends died, he lost his publishers, and the public 
taste had changed. He bore up with admirable fortitude, 
but in five years his busy pen rested from its labors. A 
selection from his works was issued in nineteen volumes in 
1859. His biography was written by Professor William P. 
Trent for the American Men of Letters series in 1892. 

Simms’s bibliography comprises no less than eighty 
separate publications. The editor is indebted to Mr. A. S. 
Salley, Jr., for the following classified list compiled from his 
article in the Publications of the Southern History Asso- 
ciation for October, 1897 : 

Poetry and Drama: Monody on Charles Cotesworth Pinck- 
ney, 1825; Lyrical and Other Poems, 1827 ; Early Lays, 1827 ; 
The Vision of Cortes, Cain, and Other Poems, 1829 ; The Tri- 
Color, or the Three Days of Blood in Paris, 1830 ; Atalantis, 
a Tale of the Sea, 1832; Southern Passages and Pictures. 
1839; Donna Florida, a Tale, 1843; Grouped Thoughts and 
Scattered Fancies, 1845; Areytos, or Songs of the South, 
1846; Charleston, and Satirists, a Scribblement, 1848; Lays 
of the Palmetto, 1848; The Cassique of Accabee, a Tale of 
Ashley River, with Other Pieces, 1849; Sabbath Lyrics, or 
Songs from Scripture : a Christmas Gift of Love, 1849 ; The 
City of the Silent, 1850; Norman Maurice, or The Man of 
the People : an American Drama, 1850 ; Michael Bonham, or 
the Fall of Bexar: a Tale of Texas (drama), 1852; Poems, 
Descriptive, Dramatic, Legendary, and Contemplative, 1853; 
Simms’ Poems, Areytos, or Songs and Ballads of the South, 
with Other Poems, 1860 ; Benedict Arnold, a Dramatic Essay, 
1863; A Supplement to the Plays of William Shakespeare, 
1848; War Poetry of the South (edited), 1867. 


356 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Fiction: Martin Faber, the Story of a Criminal, 1833; 
The Book of the Lady : a Melange, 1833 ; Guy Rivers, a Tale 
of Georgia, 1834; The Yemassee, a Romance of Carolina, 
1835; The Partisan, a Tale of the Revolution, 1835; Melli- 
champe, a Legend of the Santee, 1836; Richard Hurdis, or 
the Avenger of Blood: a Tale of Alabama, 1838; Carl Wer- 
ner, an Imaginative Story, with Other Tales of Imagination, 
1838; Pelayo, a Story of the Goths, 1838; The Damsel of 
Darien, 1839; Border Beagles, a Tale of Mississippi, 1840; 
The Kinsmen, or the Black Riders of Congaree : a Tale, 1841 
(revised and renamed The Scout, etc., 1854) ; Confession, or 
the Blind Heart: a Domestic Story, 1841; Beauchampe, or 
the Kentucky Tragedy : a Tale of Passion, 1842 ; The Prima 
Donna, a Passage from City Life, 1844 ; Castle Dismal, or the 
Bachelor’s Christmas, 1845; Helen Halsey, or the Swamp 
State of Conelachita: a Tale of the Borders, 1845; Count 
Julian, or the Last Days of the Goth : an Historical Romance, 
1845; The Wigwam and Cabin, 1845-1846; Flirtation at the 
Moultrie House, 1850; Katharine Walton, or the Rebel of 
Dorchester: an Historical Romance of the Revolution in 
South Carolina, 1851; The Golden Christmas: a Chronicle 
of St. Johns, Berkeley, 1852; As Good as a Comedy, or the 
Tennesseean’s Story, 1852 ; The Sword and Distaff, or “Fair, 
Fat, and Forty,” 1852 (title afterwards changed to Wood- 
craft, or Hawks about the Dovecote) ; Marie de Berniere, a 
Tale of the Crescent City, 1853; Vasconselos, a Romance of 
the New World, 1854 ; The Maroon : a Legend of the Carib- 
bees, and Other Tales, 1855; Southward Ho! A Spell of 
Sunshine; The Foragers, or the Raid of the Dogdays, 1855; 
Charlemont, or the Pride of the Village: a Tale of Ken- 
tucky, 1856 ; Eutaw : a Sequel to the Foragers, or the Raid of 
the Dogdays: A Tale of the Revolution, 1856; The Casique 
of Kiawah : a Colonial Romance, 1859 ; Paddy McGann, or 
the Demon of the Stump, 1863 ; Jocelyn : A Tale of the Revo- 
lution, 1867 ; The Cubs of the Panthers : A Mountain Legend, 
1869; Valtmeier, or the Mountain Men, 1869. 

History and Biography: The History of South Carolina, 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


357 


from Its First European Discovery to Its Erection into a 
Republic, with a Supplementary Chronicle of Events to the 
Present Time, 1840; The Geography of South Carolina: 
Being a Companion to the History of That State, 1843 ; The 
Life and Times of Francis Marion, 1845 ; The Life of Captain 
John Smith, the Founder of Virginia, 1846; The Life of the 
Chevalier Bayard, “the Good Knight,” “sans peur et sans 
reproche,” 1847 ; The Life of Nathaniel Green, Major-General 
in the Army of the Revolution, 1849 ; The Lily and the Totem, 
or the Huguenots in Florida, 1850; South Carolina in the 
Revolutionary War, etc., 1853; The Army Correspondence 
of Colonel John Laurens, etc., with Memoirs by Simms, 1867 ; 
The Sack and Destruction of the City of Columbia, South 
Carolina, etc., 1865. 

Miscellaneous: Slavery in the South, 1831; Slavery in 
America: Being a Brief Review of Miss Martineau on That 
Subject, 1838; The Social Principle, the True Source of 
National Permanence (oration), 1843; The Sources of 
American Independence (oration), 1844; The Charleston 
Book: A Miscellany in Prose and Verse (edited), 1845; 
Views and Reviews in American Literature, History, and 
Fiction, 1845 ; Self-Development ( oration ) , 1857 ; Father 
Abbott, or the Home Tourist: A Medley, 1849; Egeria, or 
Voices of Thought and Counsel, for the Woods and Way- 
side, 1853; Address at the Inauguration of the Spartanburg 
Female Academy, 1855; The Power of Cotton, 1856; The 
Sense of the Beautiful: An Address Delivered Before the 
Charleston County Agricultural and Horticultural Associa- 
tion, 1870. 

DEFENCE OF A BLOCK HOUSE. 

(From The Yemassee, 1835, revised 1853.) 

The Indians lay in waiting for the favorable moment — 
silent as the grave, and sleepless — ready, when the garrison 
should determine upon a sally, to fall upon their rear; and 
in the meanwhile quietly preparing dry fuel in quantity, 
gathering it from time to time, and piling it against the logs 


24— W. 


358 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


of the fortress, they prepared thus to fire the defences that 
shut them out from their prey. 

There was yet another mode of finding entrance, which 
has been partially glimpsed at already. The scouts had done 
their office diligently in more than the required respects. 
Finding a slender pine twisted by a late storm, and scarcely 
sustained by a fragment of its shaft, they applied fire to the 
rich turpentine oozing from the wounded part of the tree, 
and carefully directing its fall, as it yielded to the fire, they 
lodged its extremest branches, as we have already seen, 
against the wall of the Block House and just beneath the 
window, the only one looking from that quarter of the 
fortress. Three of the bravest of their warriors were assigned 
for scaling this point and securing their entrance, and the 
attack was forborne by the rest of the band, while their 
present design, upon which they built greatly, was in 
progress. 

Let us then turn to this quarter. We have already seen 
that the dangers of this position were duly estimated by 
Grayson, under the suggestion of Granger’s wife. Unhappily 
for its defence, the fate of the ladder prevented that due 
attention to the subject, at once, which had been imperatively 
called for; and the subsequent excitement following the dis- 
covery of the immediate proximity of the Indians had turned 
the consideration of the defenders to the opposite end of the 
building, from whence the partial attack of the enemy, as 
described, had come. It is true that the workmen were yet 
busy with the ladder; but the assault had suspended their 
operations, in the impatient curiosity which such an event 
would necessarily induce, even in the bosom of fear. 

The wife of Grayson, fully conscious of the danger, was 
alone sleepless in that apartment. The rest of the women, 
scarcely apprehensive of attack at all, and perfectly ignorant 
of the present condition of affairs, with all that heedlessness 
which marks the unreflecting character, had sunk to the 
repose (without an effort at watchfulness) which previous 
fatigues had, perhaps, made absolutely unavoidable. She, 
alone, sat thoughtful and silent — musing over present pros- 
pects — perhaps of the past — but still unforgetful of the diffi- 
culties and the dangers before her. With a calm temper she 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


359 


awaited the relief which, with the repair of the ladder, she 
looked for from below. 

In the meantime hearing something of the alarm, together 
with the distant war-whoop, she had looked around her for 
some means of defence, in the event of any attempt being 
made upon the window before the aid promised could reach 
her. But a solitary weapon met her eye, in a long heavy 
hatchet, a clumsy instrument, rather more like the cleaver 
of a butcher than the light and slender tomahawk so familiar 
to the Indians. Having secured this, with the composure of 
that courage which had been in great part taught her by 
the necessities of fortune, she prepared to do without other 
assistance, and to forego the sentiment of dependence, which 
is perhaps one of the most marked characteristics of her sex. 
Calmly looking around upon the sleeping and defenceless 
crowd about her, she resumed her seat upon a low bench in a 
corner of the apartment from which she had risen to secure 
the hatchet, and, extinguishing the only light in the room, 
fixed her eye upon the accessible window, while every thought 
of her mind prepared her for the danger which was at hand. 

She had not long been seated when she fancied that she 
heard a slight rustling of the branches of the fallen tree just 
beneath the window. She could not doubt her senses, and 
her heart swelled and throbbed with the consciousness of 
approaching danger. But still she was firm — her spirit grew 
more confirmed with the coming trial, and, coolly throwing 
the slippers from her feet, grasping firmly her hatchet at the 
same time, she softly arose, and keeping close in the shadow 
of the wall, she made her way to a recess, a foot or so from 
the entrance, to which it was evident some one was cautiously 
approaching along the attenuated body of the yielding pine. 
In a few moments a shadow darkened the opening. She 
edged more closely to the point, and prepared for the in- 
truder. She now beheld the head of the enemy — a fierce and 
foully painted savage — the war-tuft rising up into a ridge, 
something like a comb, and his face smeared with colors in 
a style the most ferociously grotesque. Still she could not 
strike, for, as he had not penetrated the window, and as its 
entrance was quite too small to enable her to strike with any 
hope of success at any distance through it, she felt that the 


360 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


effort would be wholly without certainty ; and failure might 
be of the worst consequence. Though greatly excited, and 
struggling between doubt and determination, she readily saw 
what would be the error of any precipitation. But even as 
she mused thus apprehensively, the cunning savage laid his 
hand upon the sill of the window, the better to raise himself 
to its level. That sight tempted her in spite of her better 
sense to the very precipitation she had desired to avoid. In 
the moment that she saw the hand of the red man upon the 
sill, the hatchet descended, under an impulse scarcely her 
own. She struck too quickly. The blow was given with all 
her force, and would certainly have separated the hand from 
the arm had it taken effect. But the quick eye of the Indian 
caught a glimpse of her movement at the very moment in 
which it was made, and the hand was withdrawn before the 
hatchet descended. The steel sank deep into the soft wood — 
so deeply that she could not disengage it. To try at this 
object would have exposed her at once to his weapon, and 
leaving it where it stuck, she sunk back again into shadow. 

What now was she to do? To stay where she was would 
be of little avail ; but to cry out to those below, and seek to 
fly, was equally unproductive of good, besides warning the 
enemy of the defencelessness of their condition, and thus 
inviting a renewal of the attack. The thought came to her 
with the danger; and without a word she maintained her 
position, in waiting for the progress of events. As the Indian 
had also sunk from sight, and some moments had now elapsed 
without his reappearance, she determined to make another 
effort for the recovery of the hatchet. She grasped it by the 
handle, and in the next moment the hand of the savage was 
upon her own. He felt that his grasp was on the fingers of 
a woman, and in his brief word and something of a chuckle, 
while he still maintained his hold upon it, he conveyed intel- 
ligence of the fact to those below. But it was a woman with 
a man’s spirit with whom he contended, and her endeavor 
was successful to disengage herself. The same success did 
not attend her effort to recover the weapon. In the brief 
struggle with her enemy it had become disengaged from the 
wood, and while both strove to seize it, it slipped from their 
mutual hands, and sliding over the sill, in another instant 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


361 


was heard rattling through the intervening bushes. Descend- 
ing upon the ground below, it became the spoil of those 
without, whose murmurs of gratulation she distinctly heard. 
But now came the tug of difficulty. The Indian, striving at 
the entrance, was necessarily encouraged by the discovery 
that his opponent was not a man; and assured, at the same 
time, by the forbearance on the part of those within to strike 
him effectually down from the tree, he now resolutely 
endeavored to effect his entrance. His head was again fully 
in sight of the anxious woman — then his shoulders; and at 
length, taking a firm grasp upon the sill, he strove to elevate 
himself by muscular strength, so as to secure him sufficient 
purchase for the entrance at which he aimed. 

What could she do — weaponless, hopeless? The prospect 
was startling and terrible enough; but she was a strong- 
minded woman, and impulse served her when reflection would 
most probably have taught her to fly. She had but one 
resource; and as the Indian had gradually thrust one hand 
forward for the hold upon the sill, and raised the other up 
to the side of the window, she grasped the one nighest to her 
own. She grasped it firmly with all her might, and to 
advantage, as, having lifted himself on tiptoe for the purpose 
of ascent, he had necessarily lost much of the control which 
a secure hold for his feet must have given him. Her grasp 
sufficiently assisted him forward to lessen still more greatly 
the security of his feet, while at the same time though bring- 
ing him still farther into the apartment, placing him in such 
a position — half in air — as to defeat much of the muscular 
exercise which his limbs would have possessed in any other 
situation. Her weapon now would have been all-important; 
and the brave woman mentally deplored the precipitancy 
with which she had acted in the first instance, and which had 
so unhappily deprived her of its use. But self-reproach was 
unavailing now, and she was satisfied if she could be able to 
retain her foe in his present position ; by which, keeping him 
out, or in and out, as she did, she necessarily excluded all 
other foes from the aperture which he so completely filled up. 
The intruder, though desirous enough of entrance before, 
was rather reluctant to obtain it now, under existing circum- 
stances. He strove desperately to effect a retreat, but had 


362 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


advanced too far, however, to be easily successful ; and, in his 
confusion and disquiet, he spoke to those below in his own 
language, explaining his difficulty and directing their move- 
ment to his assistance. A sudden rush along the tree indi- 
cated to the conscious sense of the woman the new danger, in 
the approach of additional enemies, who must not only sus- 
tain, but push forward, the one with whom she contended. 
This warned her at once of the necessity of some sudden 
procedure, if she hoped to do anything for her own and the 
safety of those around her — the women and the children, 
whom, amid all the contest, she had never once alarmed. 
Putting forth all her strength, therefore, though nothing 
in comparison with that of him whom she opposed, had he 
been in a condition to exert it, she strove to draw him still 
farther across the entrance, so as to exclude, if possible, the 
approach of those coming behind him. She hoped to gain 
time — sufficient time for those preparing the ladder to come 
to her relief; and with this hope for the first time she called 
aloud to Grayson and her husband. 

The Indian, in the meanwhile, derived the support for his 
person as well from the grasp of the woman as from his own 
hold upon the sill of the window. Her effort necessarily 
drawing him still farther forward, placed him so completely 
in the way of his allies that they could do him little service 
while things remained in this situation; and, to complete 
the difficulties of his predicament, while they busied them- 
selves in several efforts at his extrication, the branches of 
the little tree, resting against the dwelling, yielding sud- 
denly to the unusual weight upon it — trembling and sinking 
away at last — cracked beneath the burden, and snapping off 
from its several holds, fell from under them, dragging 
against the building in the progress down; thus breaking 
their fall, but cutting off all their hope from this mode of 
entrance, and leaving their comrade awkwardly poised aloft, 
able neither to enter nor to depart from the window. The 
tree finally settled heavily upon the ground ; and with it went 
the three savages who had so readily ascended to the assist- 
ance of their comrade — bruised and very much hurt; while 
he, now without any support but that which he derived from 
the sill, and what little his feet could secure from the irreg- 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


363 


ular crevices between the logs of which the house had been 
built, was hung in air, unable to advance except at the will 
of his woman opponent, and dreading a far worse fall from 
his eminence than that which had already happened to his 
allies. Desperate with his situation, he thrust his arm, as 
it was still held by the woman, still farther into the window, 
and this enabled her with both hands to secure and strengthen 
the grasp which she had originally taken upon it. This she 
did with a new courage and strength, derived from the voices 
below, by which she understood a promise of assistance. 
Excited and nerved, she drew the extended arm of the Indian, 
in spite of all his struggles, directly over the sill, so as to turn 
the elbow completely down upon it. With her whole weight 
thus employed, bending down to the floor to strengthen her- 
self to the task, she pressed the arm across the window until 
her ears heard the distinct, clear crack of the bone — until she 
heard the groan, and felt the awful struggles of the suffering 
wretch, twisting himself round with all his effort to attain 
for the shattered arm a natural and relaxed position, and 
with this object leaving his hold upon everything, only sus- 
tained, indeed, by the grasp of his enemy. But the movement 
of the woman had been quite too sudden, her nerves too firm, 
and her strength too great, to suffer him to succeed. The 
jagged splinters of the broken limb were thrust up, lacerating 
and tearing through flesh and skin, while a howl of the 
acutest agony attested the severity of that suffering which 
could extort such an acknowledgment from the American 
savage. He fainted in his pain, and as the weight increased 
upon the arm of the woman, the nature of her sex began to 
resume its sway. With a shudder of every fibre, she released 
her hold upon him. The effort of her soul was over — a 
strange sickness came upon her; and she was just conscious 
of a crashing fall of the heavy body among the branches of 
the tree at the foot of the window,- when she staggered back 
fainting in the arms of her husband, who just at that moment 
ascended to her relief. 


364 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


A CAROLINA CYPRESS SWAMP. 

(From The Partisan: A Romance of the Revolution.) 

The party followed as their guide directed, and after some 
twenty minutes’ plunging, they were deep in the shadow 
and the shelter of the swamp. The gloom was thicker around 
them, and was only relieved by the pale and skeleton forms 
of the cypresses, clustering in groups along the plashy sides 
of the still lake, and giving meet dwelling-place to the 
screech-owls, that hooted at intervals from their rugged 
branches. Sometimes a phosphorescent gleam played over the 
stagnant pond, into which the terrapin plunged heavily at 
their approach ; while on the neighboring banks the frogs of 
all degrees croaked forth their inharmonious chant, making 
the scene more hideous, and certainly adding greatly to the 
sense of gloom which it inspired in those who penetrated it. 
A thousand other sounds filled up the pauses between the con- 
clusion of one and the commencement of another discordant 
chorus from those admitted croakers — sounds of alarm, of 
invitation, of exulting tyranny — the cry of the little bird, 
when the black-snake, hugging the high tree, climbs up to 
the nest of her young, while, with shrieks of rage, flapping 
his roused wings, the male flies furiously at his head, and 
gallantly enough, though vainly, endeavors to drive him 
back from his unholy purpose — the hum of the drowsy beetle, 
the faint chirp of the cricket, and the buzz of the innumer- 
able thousands of bee, bird, and insect, which make the 
swamps of the South, in midsummer and its commencement, 
the vast storehouse, in all its forms, of the most various and 
animated life — all these were around the adventurers, with 
their gloomy and distracting noises, until they became utterly 
unheeded at last, and the party boldly kept its onward course 
into their yet deeper recesses. 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


365 


THE LOST PLEIAD . 1 
(From Poetical Works, 1853.) 


Not in the sky, 

Where it was seen 

So long in eminence of light serene, — 

Nor on the white tops of the glistering wave, 

Nor down, in mansions of the hidden deep, 

Though beautiful in green 

And crystal, its great caves of mystery, — 

Shall the bright watcher have 

Her place, and, as of old, high station keep I 1 

Gone ! gone ! 

Oh ! never more, to cheer 
The mariner, who holds his course alone 
On the Atlantic, through the weary night, 
When the stars turn to watchers, and do sleep, 
Shall it again appear, 

With the sweet-loving certainty of light, 

Down shining on the shut eyes of the deep ! 


The upward-looking shepherd of the hills 
Of Chaldea, night-returning, with his flocks, 

He wonders why his beauty doth not blaze, 

Gladding his gaze, — 

And, from his dreary watch along the rocks, 

Guiding him homeward o’er the perilous ways ! 

How stands he waiting still, in a sad maze, 

Much wondering, while the drowsy silence fills 

The sorrowful vault ! — how lingers, in the hope that night 

May yet renew the expected and sweet light, 

So natural to his sight! 


*In classical mythology seven sisters, the daughters of Atlas, were metamor- 
phosed into the constellation of the Pleiades at their deaths. Merope’s brightness 
was eclipsed because she alone of the sisters had loved a mortal, Sisyphus, King 
of Corinth. 


366 THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 

And lone, 

Where, at first, in smiling love she shone, 

Brood the once happy circle of bright stars : 

How should they dream, until her fate was known, 
That they were ever confiscate to death? 

That dark oblivion the pure beauty mars, 

And, like the earth, its common bloom and breath, 
That they should fall from high; 

Their lights grow blasted by a touch, and die, — 

All their concerted springs of harmony 
Snapt rudely, and the generous music gone ! 

Ah ! still the strain 

Of wailing sweetness fills the saddening sky ; 

The sister stars, lamenting in their pain 
That one of the selectest ones must die, — 

Must vanish, when most lovely, from the rest! 
Alas! ’tis ever thus the destiny. 

Even Rapture’s song hath evermore a tone 
Of wailing, as for bliss too quickly gone. 

The hope most precious is the soonest lost, 

The flower most sweet is first to feel the frost. 

Are not all short-lived things the loveliest? 

And, like the pale star, shooting down the sky, 
Look not they ever brightest, as they fly 
From the lone sphere they blest! 


SONG IN MARCH. 

(From the same. This song first appeared in the Southern Literary Journal for 
March, 1837.) 

How are the winds about us in their glee, 

Tossing the slender tree ; 

Whirling the sands about his furious car, 

March cometh from afar; 

Breaks the sealed magic of old Winter’s dreams, 

And rends his glassy streams ; 

Chafing with potent airs, he fiercely takes 
Their fetters from the lakes, 

And, with a power by queenly Spring supplied, 

Wakens the slumbering tide. 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


367 


With a wild love he seeks young Summer’s charms 
And clasps her to his arms ; 

Lifting his shield between, he drives away 
Old Winter from his prey ; — 

The ancient tyrant whom he boldly braves, 

Goes howling to his caves ; 

And, to his northern realm compelled to fly, 
Yields up the victory ; 

Melted are all his bands, o’erthrown his toivers, 
And March comes bringing fhnvers. 


THE BURDEN OF THE DESERT . 1 

(From the same.) 

The burden of the Desert, 

The Desert like the deep, 

That from the south in whirlwinds 
Comes rushing up the steep ; — 

I see the spoiler spoiling, 

I hear the strife of blows; 

Up, watchman, to thy heights and say 
How the dread conflict goes! 

What hear’st thou from the desert? — 
“A sound, as if a world 
Were from its axle lifted up 
And to an ocean hurled; 

The roaring as of waters, 

The rushing as of hills, 

And lo ! the tempest-smoke and cloud, 
That all the desert fills.” 

What see’st thou on the desert? — 

“A chariot comes,” he cried, 

“With camels and with horsemen, 

That travel by its side ; 

And now a lion darteth 
From out the cloud, and he 
Looks backward ever as he flies, 

As fearing still to see !” 


paraphrase of Isaiah xxi. 


368 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


What, watchman, of the horsemen? — 
“They come, and as they ride, 
Their horses crouch and tremble, 

Nor toss their manes in pride; 

The camels wander scattered, 

The horsemen heed them naught, 
But speed, as if they dreaded still 
The foe with whom they fought.” 

What foe is this, thou watchman? — 
“Hark! Hark! the horsemen come 
Still looking on the backward path, 
As if they feared a doom ; 

Their locks are white with terror, 
Their very shouts a groan; 
Babylon, they cry, has fallen, 

And all her gods are gone !” 


THE SWAMP FOX. 1 

(From The Partisan, 1835.) 

We follow where the Swamp Pox guides, 
His friends and merry men are we; 
And when the troop of Tarleton rides, 

We burrow in the cypress tree. 

The turfy hammock is our bed, 

Our home is in the red-deer’s den, 

Our roof, the tree-top overhead, 

For we are wild and hunted men. 

We fly by day, and shun its light, 

But, prompt to strike the sudden blow, 
We mount, and start with early night, 
And through the forest track our foe. 
And soon he hears our chargers leap, 

The flashing sabre blinds his eyes, 

And ere he drives away his sleep, 

And rushes from his camp, he dies. 


X A soubriquet of General Francis Marion (1732-1795.) 


WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS 


369 


Now light the fire, and cook the meal, 

The last, perhaps, that we shall taste; 

I hear the Swamp Fox round us steal, 

And that’s a sign we move in haste. 

He whistles to the scouts, and hark ! 

You hear his order calm and low — 

Come, wave your torch across the dark, 

And let us see the boys that go. 

What — ’tis the signal! start so soon, 

And through the Santee swamp so deep, 
Without the aid of friendly moon, 

And we, Heaven help us, half asleep ! 

But courage, comrades! Marion leads, 

The Swamp Fox takes us out tonight; 

So clear your swords, and spur your steeds, 
There’s goodly chance, I think, of fight. 

We follow where the Swamp Fox guides, 
We leave the swamp and cypress tree, 
Our spurs are in our coursers’ sides, 

And ready for the strife are we — 

The Tory camp is now in sight, 

And there he cowers within his den — 

He hears our shout, he dreads the fight, 

He fears, and flies from Marion’s men. 


370 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


FREDERICK WILLIAM THOMAS 

Frederick William Thomas was born at Charleston, 
South Carolina, in 1811, and died at Washington, September 
30, 1866. Educated in Baltimore, Maryland, where he 
studied law, he was admitted to the bar in 1828. In 1830 he 
removed to Cincinnati to assist his father in editing The 
Advertiser, in which, in the same year, appeared “ ’Tis Said 
That Absence Conquers Love.” From 1841 till 1850 he was 
clerk in the Treasury Department in Washington. In 1850 
he returned to Cincinnati, entered the ministry and preached 
in that city. In 1858 he resumed the practice of law in Cam- 
bridge, Maryland. In 1860 he became editor of the Richmond 
Enquirer and was afterward connected with The South 
Carolinian, of Columbia. 

He published The Emigrant, a poem, 1833 ; Clinton Brad- 
shaw, a Tale, 1835; East and West, a novel, 1836; The 
Beechen Tree, and Other Poems, 1844; John Randolph of 
Roanoke, and Other Sketches of Character, 1853. The fol- 
lowing verses were set to music by E. Thomas : 

'’TIS SAID THAT ABSENCE CONQUERS LOVE. 

’Tis said that absence conquers love; 

But, oh, believe it not! 

I’ve tried, alas ! its pow’r to prove, 

But thou art not forgot. 

Lady, though fate has bid us part, 

Yet still thou art as dear, 

As fixed in this devoted heart 
As when I clasped thee here. 

And when some other name I learn 
And try to whisper love, 

Still will my heart to thee return 
Like the returning dove. 


FREDERICK WILLIAM THOMAS 


371 


In vain ! I never can forget, 

And would not be forgot; 

For I must bear the same regret, 
Wliate’er may be my lot. 

E’en as the wounded bird will seek 
Its favorite bower to die, 

So, lady, I would hear thee speak, 
And yield my parting sigh. 

’Tis said that absence conquers love ; 

But, oh, believe it not! 

I’ve tried, alas ! its pow’r to prove,, 
But thou art not forgot. 


372 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


JAMES HENLEY THORNWELL 

James Henley Thornwell was born in Marlborough Dis- 
trict, near Society Hill, South Carolina, December 9, 1812; 
died at Charlotte, North Carolina, August 1, 1862. He 
received his early instruction principally at the Cheraw 
Academy, conducted by Dr. Graham and Mr. Bowman, and 
graduated with highest honors at South Carolina College in 
1831. He then studied theology, was licensed to preach in 
1834, and served as pastor of the Presbyterian church at 
Lancaster Court House, of Waxhaws and Six Mile Creek 
churches. He held the chair of Logic and Criticism in the 
South Carolina College, 1837-1840, and was Professor of 
Sacred Literature and Evidences of Christianity, 1840-1851. 
On account of poor health he visited Europe in 1841. He 
became pastor of the Glebe Street Church in Charleston in 
1851. He was President of the South Carolina College, 1852- 
1855. He was elected Professor of Theology in the Theo- 
logical Seminary in Columbia in 1855, and also served as 
pastor of the First Presbyterian Church. He was editor of 
the Southern Quarterly Review, 1856-7. 

Dr. Thorn well’s writings consist mainly of sermons, lec- 
tures and articles in various reviews and magazines. They 
were collected and published in two volumes in 1871. His 
most important works are : Discourses on Truth, Arguments 
of Romanists Discussed and Refuted, Miracles, The Free 
School System of South Carolina, Memoir of Dr. Henry, 
Barnard on American Colleges, Plato’s Phaedon, The State 
of the Country, Letter on Public Instruction to Governor 
Manning, The Rights and Duties of Masters, The Elder 
Question, Thoughts on the Priesthood of Christ, Paul’s 
Preaching at Athens, The Philosophy of Religion, The 
Christian Pastor, Sermon on the Death of Calhoun. 1 

1 See the article on Thornwell by Dr. Samuel M. Smith in the Library of Southern 
Literature. 


JAMES HENLEY THORNWELL 


373 


THE COLLEGE AND THE STATE. 

(From the Letter to Governor Manning, 1853.) 

The first in the order of establishment, as well as the first 
in the order of importance, is the college. Devoted to the 
interests of general, in contradistinction from professional 
education, its design is to cultivate the mind without refer- 
ence to any ulterior pursuits. “The student is considered as 
an end to himself ; his perfection, as a man simply, being the 
aim of his education.” The culture of the mind, however, 
for itself, contributes to its perfection as an instrument, so 
that general education, while it directly prepares and quali- 
fies for no special destination, indirectly trains for every 
vocation in which success is dependent upon intellectual 
exertion. It has taught the mind the use of its powers, and 
imparted those habits without which its powers would be 
useless; it makes men, and consequently promotes every 
enterprise in which men are to act. General education being 
the design of the College, the fundamental principles of its 
organization are easily deduced. The selection of studies 
must be made, not with reference to the comparative im- 
portance of their matter, or the practical value of the knowl- 
edge, but with reference to their influence in unfolding and 
strengthening the powers of the mind; as the end is to 
improve mind, the fitness for the end is the prime considera- 
tion. “As knowledge,” says Sir William Hamilton (man 
being now considered as' an end to himself), “is only valuable 
as it exercises, and by this exercise develops and invigorates 
the mind, so a University, in its liberal faculty, should 
especially prefer these objects of study which call forth the 
strongest and most unexclusive energy of thought, and so 
teach them too that this energy shall be most fully elicited 
in the student.” For speculative knowledge, of whatever 
kind, is only profitable to the student in his liberal cultiva- 
tion, inasmuch as it supplies him with the object and occasion 
of exerting his faculties ; since powers are only developed in 
proportion as they are exercised, that is, put forth into 
energy. The mere possession of scientific truths is, for its 
own sake, valueless; and education is only education, inas- 
much as it at once determines and enables the student to 


25— W. 


374 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


educate himself. Hence, the introduction of studies upon 
the ground of their practical utility is, pro tanto, subversive 
of the College. It is not its office to make planters, lawyers, 
physicians, or divines. It has nothing directly to do with 
the uses of knowledge. Its business is with minds, and it 
employs science only as an instrument for the improvement 
and perfection of the mind. With it the habit of sound 
thinking is more than a thousand thoughts. When, there- 
fore, the question is asked, as it often is asked by ignorance 
and empiricism, what is the use of certain departments of 
the College curriculum, the answer should turn, not upon the 
benefits which in after life may be reaped from these pursuits, 
but upon their immediate subjective influence upon the culti- 
vation of the human faculties. They are selected in prefer- 
ence to others, because they better train the mind. . . 

But then the important point is, and it is a point which 
ought never to be forgotten, though it is systematically over- 
looked by those who are accustomed to decry the College, that 
these benefits are imparted, not for the sake of the few, but 
for the interest of many — the good of the State at large. 
Those who are educated not for themselves, but for the advan- 
tage of the Commonwealth as a whole. Every scholar is 
regarded as a blessing — a great public benefit — and for the 
sake of the general influence that he is qualified to exert, 
the State makes provision for his training. It is because the 
“proper education of youth contributes greatly to the pros- 
perity of society,” that it “ought to be an object of legislative 
attention.” The many, therefore, are not taxed for the few, 
but the few are trained for exalted usefulness and extensive 
good to the many. If the legislature had in view only the 
interest of those who are educated, and expended its funds 
in reference to their good, considered simply as individuals, 
there would be just ground of complaint; but when it is really 
aiming at the prosperity of the whole community, and uses 
these individuals as means to that end, there is nothing 
limited or partial in its measures. 

It is great weakness to suppose that nothing can contribute 
to the general good, the immediate ends of which are not 
realized in the case of every individual. Are lighthouses con- 
structed only for the safety of the benighted mariner who 


JAMES HENLEY THORNWELL 


375 


may be actually guided by their lamps, or are they raised for 
the security of navigation, the interest of commerce, and, 
through these, the interest of society at large? There is no 
way of evading the force of this argument but by flatly deny- 
ing that an educated class is a public good. If there are any 
among us who are prepared to take this ground, and to 
become open advocates of barbarism, I have nothing to say 
to them; but for the sake of those who may be seduced by 
sophistry which they cannot disentangle, I offer a few reflec- 
tions. . 

There ought surely to be some common ground on which 
the members of the same State may meet together and feel 
that they are brothers — some common ground on which their 
children may mingle without confusion or discord, and bury 
every narrow and selfish interest in the sublime sentiment 
that they belong to the same family. Nothing is so powerful 
as a common education, and the thousand sweet associations 
which spring from it and cluster around it, to cherish the 
holy brotherhood of men. Those who have walked together 
in the same paths of science, and taken sweet counsel in the 
same halls of learning; who went arm in arm in that hal- 
lowed season of life when the foundations of all excellence 
are laid; who have wept with the same sorrows or laughed 
at the same joys; who have been fired with the same ambi- 
tion; lured with the same hopes, and grieved at the same 
disappointments — these are not the men, in after years, to 
stir up animosities or foment intestine feuds. Their college 
life is a bond of union which nothing can break — a divine 
poetry of existence which nothing is allowed to profane. 
Who can forget his college dreams? Would you make any 
Commonwealth a unit, educate its sons together. This is the 
secret of the harmony which has so remarkably characterized 
our State. It was not the influence of a single mind, great 
as that mind was — it was no tame submission to authorita- 
tive dictation. It was the community of thought, feeling and 
character, achieved by a common education within these 
walls. Here it was that heart was knit to heart, mind to 
mind, and that a common character was formed. All these 
advantages must be lost if the sectarian scheme prevails. 
South Carolina will no longer be a unit, nor her citizens 


376 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


brothers. We shall have sect against sect, school against 
school, and college against college; and he knows but little 
of the past who has not observed that the most formidable 
dangers to any State are those which spring from divisions 
in its own bosom, and that these divisions are terrible in 
proportion to the degree in which the religious element enters 
into them. 

I shall trespass upon the patience of your Excellency no 
longer. In all that I have said I have an eye to the pros- 
perity and glory of my native State. Small in territory and 
feeble in numbers, the only means' by which she can maintain 
her dignity and importance is by the patronage of letters. A 
mere speck compared with several other States in the Union, 
her reliance for the protection of her rights and her full and 
equal influence in Federal legislation must be upon the 
genius of her statesmen and the character of her people. 
Let her give herself to the rearing of a noble race of men, 
and she will make up in moral power what she wants in 
votes. Public education is the cheap expedient for uniting 
us among ourselves, and rendering us terrible abroad. Mind 
after all must be felt, and I am anxious to see my beloved 
Carolina pre-eminently distinguished for the learning, elo- 
quence and patriotism of her sons. Let us endeavor to make 
her in general intelligence what she is in dignity and inde- 
pence of character — the brightest star in the American con- 
stellation. God grant that the time may soon come when not 
an individual born within our borders shall be permitted to 
reach maturity without having mastered the elements of 
knowledge. 


HENRY TIMROD 


377 


HENRY TIMROD 

Henry Timrod was born at Charleston, December 8, 1829, 
and died at Columbia, October 6, 1867. His father, Wil- 
liam H. Timrod, was of German, his mother of English 
descent. He received his early training in the schools of his 
native city, where his fondness for English poetry and the 
classics was developed. His deep love of nature and poetic 
disposition was already marked, but he took part with zest 
in the sports of his schoolmates, one of whom, Paul H. 
Hayne, was his deskmate and intimate friend. He then 
studied two years at the University of Georgia, but was 
forced to leave without graduating because of poor health 
and want of means. He began the study of law in the office 
of James L. Petigru, but finding it uncongenial, he aban- 
doned it to become a teacher. Having failed to secure a 
professorship, he became a private tutor in the families of 
various planters until 1861. Meanwhile he cultivated his 
poetic gifts, contributed verses to Russell’s Magazine and 
The Southern Literary Messenger, published a little book of 
verses in Boston, and was closely associated with Simms, 
Hayne, and the other literary men of Charleston. At the out- 
break of war he enlisted in Company B, Twentieth Regiment 
of South Carolina Volunteers, and served on Sullivan’s 
Island until December 15, 1862, Avhen he was discharged by 
the regimental surgeon as suffering from consumption in the 
early stages. During these years, however, he rendered a far 
greater service to the Confederate cause by his war-songs 
and martial odes, which produced a profound impression 
among both soldiers and civilians. After a pathetic, futile 
effort to act as war-correspondent with the army of the 
Southwest, he undertook in 1864 the editorship of The South 
Carolinian, a daily newspaper at Columbia. About this time 
he married an English girl, in Charleston, Miss Goodwin, the 
“Katie” of one of his poems. The paper was destroyed and 


378 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


all his property swept away during the burning of Columbia 
by Sherman’s army in 1865. In the grip of ill health and 
dire poverty he bravely struggled on for two years, still 
happily cultivating the Muse, and cheered by the sympathy 
of Simms, Hayne, and other friends, who themselves were 
almost ruined by the war and unable to help him financially. 
“His latest occupation was correcting the proof-sheets of his 
own poems, and he passed away with them by his side, stained 
by his life-blood.” 

Timrod’s first volume of Poems appeared in 1860. A 
second volume was edited in 1873 by Paul H. Hayne with a 
sketch of the poet’s life. This passed through tw<* editions. 
In 1883 an illustrated edition of Katie was published, and 
some of the individual poems appeared in various anthologies 
and school readers. Finally in 1899 the complete Memorial 
Edition of his poems was issued through the efforts of the 
Timrod Memorial Association. His most important prose 
work, an essay entitled A Theory of Poetry, was published 
in The Atlantic Monthly for August, 1905, by courtesy of 
Hon. William A. Courtenay, to whom the manuscript was 
presented by Mrs. Timrod. 

THE COTTON BOLL . 1 

While I recline 
At ease beneath 
This immemorial pine, 

Small sphere! 

(By dusky fingers brought this morning here 
And shown with boastful smiles), 

I turn thy cloven sheath, 

Through which the soft white fibres peer, 

That, with their gossamer bands, 

Unite, like love, the sea-divided lands, 

And slowly, thread by thread, 

Draw forth the folded strands, 

Than which the trembling line, 


Copyrighted. From the Memorial Volume of Timrod’s Poems, by the kind per- 
mission of the B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Richmond, Va. 


HENKY TIMROD 


379 


By whose frail help yon startled spider fled 
Down the tall spear-grass from his swinging bed, 
Is scarce more fine ; 

And as the tangled skein 
Unravels in my hands, 

Betwixt me and the noonday light, 

A veil seems lifted, and for miles and miles 
The landscape broadens on my sight, 

As in the little boll, there lurked a spell 
Like that which, in the ocean shell, 

With mystic sound, 

Breaks down the narrow walls that hem us round, 
And turns some city lane 
Into the restless main, 

With all his capes and isles! 

Yonder bird, 

Which floats, as if at rest, 

In those blue tracts above the thunder, where 
No vapors cloud the stainless air, 

And never sound is heard, 

Unless at such rare time 
When, from the City of the Blest, 

Rings down some golden chime, 

Sees not from his high place 
So vast a cirque of summer space 
As widens round me in one mighty field, 

Which, rimmed by seas and sands, 

Doth hail its earliest daylight in the beams 
Of gray Atlantic dawns; 

And, broad as realms made up of many lands, 

Is lost afar 

Behind the crimson hills and purple lawns 
Of sunset, among plains which roll their streams 
Against the Evening Star ! 

And lo! 

To the remotest point of sight, 

Although I gaze upon no waste of snow, 

The endless field is white ; 

And the whole landscape glows, 


380 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


For many a shining league away, 

With such accumulated light 

As Polar lands would flash beneath a tropic day ! 

Nor lack there (for the vision grows, 

And the small charm within my hands — 

More potent even than the fabled one, 

Which oped whatever golden mystery 
Lay hid in fairy wood or magic vale, 

The curious ointment of the Arabian tale — 

Beyond all mortal sense 

Doth stretch my sight’s horizon, and I see, 

Beneath its simple influence, 

As if with Uriel’s crown, 

I stood in some great temple of the Sun, 

And looked, as Uriel, down!) 

Nor lack there pastures rich and fields all green 
With all the common gifts of God, 

For temperate airs and torrid sheen 
Weave Edens of the sod; 

Through lands which look one sea of billowy gold 
Broad rivers wind their devious ways ; 

A hundred isles in their embraces fold 
A hundred luminous bays ; 

And through yon purple haze 

Vast mountains lift their plumed peaks cloud-crowned 
And, save where up their sides the ploughman creeps, 
An unhewn forest girds them grandly round, 

In whose dark shades a future navy sleeps ! 

Ye Stars, which, though unseen, yet with me gaze 
Upon this loveliest fragment of the earth ! 

Thou Sun, that kindlest all thy gentlest rays 
Above it, as to light a favorite hearth ! 

Ye Clouds, that in your temples in the West 
See nothing brighter than its humblest flowers ! 

And you, ye Winds, that on the ocean’s breast 
Are kissed to coolness ere ye reach its bowers ! 

Bear witness with me in my song of praise, 

And tell the world that, since the world began, 

No fairer land hath fired a poet’s lays, 

Or given a home to man ! 


HENRY TIMROD 


381 


But these are charms already widely blown ! 

His be the meed whose pencil’s trace 
Hath touched our very swamps with grace. 

And round whose tuneful way 
All Southern laurels bloom ; 

The Poet of “The Woodlands /’ 1 unto whom 
Alike are known 

The flute’s low breathing and the trumpet’s tone, 
And the soft west wind’s sighs ; 

But who shall utter all the debt, 

O Land wherein all powers are met 
That bind a people’s heart, 

The world doth owe thee at this day, 

And which it never can repay, 

Yet scarcely deigns to own ! 

Where sleeps the poet who shall fitly sing 
The source wherefrom doth spring 
That mighty commerce which, confined 
To the mean channels of no selfish mart, 

Goes out to every shore 

Of this broad earth, and throngs the sea with ships 
That bear no thunders ; hushes hungry lips 
In alien lands; 

Joins with a delicate web remotest strands; 

And gladdening rich and poor, 

Doth gild Parisian domes, 

Or feed the cottage smoke of English homes, 

And only bounds its blessings by mankind ! 

In offices like these, thy mission lies, 

My Country! and it shall not end 
As long as rain shall fall and Heaven bend 
In blue above thee ; though thy foes be hard 
And cruel as their weapons, it shall guard 
Thy hearth-stones as a bulwark ; make thee great 
In white and bloodless state; 

And haply, as the years increase — 

Still working through its humbler reach 
With that large wisdom which the ages teach — 


x The homestead of William Gilmore Simms. 


382 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Revive the half-dead dream of universal peace ! 

As men who labor in that mine 
Of Cornwall, hollowed out beneath the bed 
Of ocean, when a storm rolls overhead, 

Hear the dull booming of the world of brine 
Above them, and a mighty muffled roar 
Of winds and waters, yet toil calmly on, 

And split the rock, and pile the massive ore, 

Or carve a niche, or shape the arched roof ; 

So I, as calmly, weave my woof 
Of song, chanting the days to come, 

Unsilenced, though the quiet summer air 
Stirs with the bruit of battles, and each dawn 
Wakes from its starry silence to the hum 
Of many gathering armies. Still, 

In that we sometimes hear, 

Upon the Northern winds, the voice of woe 
Not wholly drowned in triumph, though I know 
The end must crown us, and a few brief years 
Dry all our tears, 

I may not sing too gladly. To Thy will 
Resigned, O Lord ! we cannot all forget 
That there is much even Victory must regret. 

And, therefore, not too long 

From the great burthen of our country’s wrong 

Delay our just release! 

And, if it may be, save 

These sacred fields of peace 

From stain of patriot or of hostile blood! 

Oh, help us, Lord, to roll the crimson flood 
Back on its course, and, while our banners wing 
Northward, strike with us! till the Goth shall cling 
To his own blasted altar-stones, and crave 
Mercy ; and we shall grant it, and dictate 
The lenient future of his fate 

There, where some rotting ships and crumbling quays 
Shall one day mark the Port which ruled the Western seas. 


HENRY TIMROD 


383 


CAROLINA . 1 

I 

The despot treads thy sacred sands, 

Thy pines give shelter to his bands, 

Thy sons stand by with idle hands, 
Carolina ! 

He breathes at ease thy airs of balm, 

He scorns the lances of thy palm; 

Oh ! who shall break thy craven calm, 
Carolina ! 

Thy ancient fame is growing dim, 

A spot is on thy garment’s rim ; 

Give to the winds thy battle hymn, 
Carolina ! 

ii 

Call on thy children of the hill, 

Wake swamp and river, coast and rill, 
Rouse all thy strength and all thy skill, 
Carolina ! 

Cite wealth and science, trade and art, 
Touch with thy fire the cautious mart, 
And pour thee through the people’s heart, 
Carolina ! 

Till even the coward spurns his fears, 

And all thy fields and fens and meres 
Shall bristle like thy palm with spears, 
Carolina ! 

in 

Hold up the glories of thy dead ; 

Say how thy elder children bled, 

And point to Eutaw’s battle-bed, 

Carolina ! 

Tell how the patriot’s soul was tried, 

And what his dauntless breast defied; 
How Rutledge ruled and Laurens died, 
Carolina ! 


Copyrighted. From the Memorial Volume of Timrod’s Poems, by permission of 
the B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Richmond, Va. 


384 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Cry ! till thy summons, heard at last, 

Shall fall like Marion’s bugle-blast 
Re-echoed from the haunted Past, 

Carolina ! 

IV 

I hear a murmur as of waves 
That grope their way through sunless caves, 
Like bodies struggling in their graves, 
Carolina ! 

And now it deepens ; slow and grand 
It swells, as, rolling to the land, 

An ocean broke upon thy strand, 

Carolina ! 

Shout! let it reach the startled Huns, 

And roar with all thy festal guns! 

It is the answer of thy sons, 

Carolina ! 

v 

They will not wait to hear thee call ; 

From Sachem’s Head to Sumter’s wall 
Resounds the voice of hut and hall, 
Carolina ! 

No ! thou hast not a stain, they say, 

Or none save what the battle-day 
Shall wash in seas of blood away, 

Carolina ! 

Thy skirts indeed the foe may part, 

Thy robe be pierced with sword and dart, 
They shall not touch thy noble heart, 
Carolina ! 

VI 

Ere thou shalt own the tyrant’s thrall 
Ten times ten thousand men must fall ; 

Thy corpse may hearken to his call, 

Carolina ! 


HENRY TIMROD 


385 


When by thy bier, in mournful throngs 
The women chant thy mortal wrongs, 
’Twill be their own funereal songs, 
Carolina ! 

From thy dead breast by ruffians trod 
No helpless child shall look to God; 

All shall be safe beneath thy sod, 

Carolina ! 

YII 

Girt with such wills to do and bear, 
Assured in right, and mailed in prayer, 
Thou wilt not bow thee to despair, 
Carolina ! 

Throw thy bold banner to the breeze! 
Front with thy ranks the threatening seas 
Like thine own proud armorial trees, 
Carolina ! 

Fling down thy gauntlet to the Huns, 
And roar the challenge from thy guns, 
Then leave the future to thy sons, 
Carolina ! 


CHARLESTON . 1 

Calm as that second summer which precedes 
The first fall of the snow, 

In the broad sunlight of heroic deeds, 

The City bides the foe. 

As yet, behind their ramparts stern and proud, 
Her bolted thunders sleep — 

Dark Sumter, like a battlemented cloud, 

Looms o’er the solemn deep. 


Copyrighted. From the Memorial Volume of Timrod’s Poems, by permission of 
le B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Richmond, Va. 


386 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


No Calpe frowns from lofty cliff or scar 
To guard the holy strand; 

But Moultrie holds in leash her dogs of war 
Above the level sand. 

And down the dunes a thousand guns lie couched, 
Unseen, beside the flood — 

Like tigers in some Orient jungle crouched 
That wait and watch for blood. 

Meanwhile, through streets still echoing with trade, 
Walk grave and thoughtful men, 

Whose hands may one day wield the patriot’s blade 
As lightly as the pen. 

And maidens, with such eyes as would grow dim 
Over a bleeding hound, 

Seem each one to have caught the strength of him 
Whose sword she sadly bound. 

Thus girt without and garrisoned at home, 

Day patient following day, 

Old Charleston looks from roof, and spire, and dome, 
Across her tranquil bay. 

Ships, through a hundred foes, from Saxon lands 
And spicy Indian ports, 

Bring Saxon steel and iron to her hands, 

And Summer to her courts. 

But still, along yon dim Atlantic line, 

The only hostile smoke 

Creeps like a harmless mist above the brine, 

From some frail, floating oak. 

Shall the Spring dawn, and she still clad in smiles, 
And with an unscathed brow, 

Rest in the strong arms of her palm-crowned isles, 

As fair and free as now? 


HENRY TIMROD 


387 


We know not; in the temple of the Pates 
God has inscribed her doom ; 

And, all untroubled in her faith, she waits 
The triumph or the tomb. 


THE LILY CONFIDANTE . 1 

Lily ! lady of the garden ! 

Let me press my lip to thine ! 

Love must tell its story, Lily ! 

Listen thou to mine. 

Two I choose to know the secret — 
Thee, and yonder wordless flute; 
Dragons watch me, tender Lily, 

And thou must be mute. 

There’s a maiden, and her name is . 

Hist! was that a rose-leaf fell? 

See, the rose is listening, Lily, 

And the rose may tell. 

Lily-browed and lily-hearted, 

She is very dear to me; 

Lovely? Yes, if being lovely 
Is — resembling thee. 

Six to half a score of summers 

Make the sweetest of the “teens” — 
Not too young to guess, dear Lily, 
What a lover means. 

Laughing girl, and thoughtful woman, 
I am puzzled how to woo — 

Shall I praise, or pique her, Lily? 

Tell me what to do. 


Copyrighted. By permission of the B. P. Johnson Publishing Co. 


388 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


“Silly lover, if thy Lily 
Like her sister lilies be, 

Thou must woo, if thou wouldst wear her, 
With a simple plea. 

“Love’s the lover’s only magic, 

Truth the very subtlest art ; 

Love that feigns, and lips that flatter, 

Win no modest heart. 

“Like the dew-drop in my bosom, 

Be thy guileless language, youth ; 

Falsehood buyeth falsehood only, 

Truth must purchase truth. 

“As thou talkest at the fireside, 

With the little children by — 

As thou prayest in the darkness, 

When thy God is nigh — 

“With a speech as chaste and gentle, 

And such meanings as become 

Ear of child, or ear of angel, 

Speak, or be thou dumb. 

“Woo her thus, and she shall give thee 
Of her heart the sinless whole, 

All the girl within her bosom, 

And her woman’s soul.” 


MAGNOLIA CEMETERY . 1 

Sleep sweetly in your humble graves, 
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause; 
Though yet no marble column craves 
The pilgrim here to pause 


x An ode sung on the occasion of decorating the graves of the Confederate dead, 
at Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S. C., 1867. 

Copyrighted. From the Memorial Volume of Timrod’s Poems, by permission of 
the B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Richmond, Va. 


HENRY TIMROD 


389 


In seeds of laurel in the earth 

The blossom of your fame is blown, 
And somewhere, waiting for its birth, 

The shaft is in the stone! 

Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years 

Which keep in trust your storied tombs, 
Behold ! your sisters bring their tears, 

And these memorial blooms. 

Small tributes ! but your shades will smile 
More proudly on these wreaths today, 
Than when cannon-moulded pile 
Shall overlook this bay. 

Stoop, angels, hither from the skies ! 

There is no holier spot of ground 
Than where defeated valor lies, 

By mourning beauty crowned! 


SPRING . 1 

Spring, with that nameless pathos in the air 
Which dwells with all things fair, 

Spring, with her golden suns and silver rain, 
Is with us once again. 

Out in the lonely woods the jasmine burns 
Its fragrant lamps, and turns 
Into a royal court with green festoons 
The banks of dark lagoons. 

In the deep heart of every forest tree 
The blood is all aglee, 

And there’s a look about the leafless bowers 
As if they dreamed of flowers. 


Copyrighted. From the Memorial Volume of Timrod’s Poems, by permission of 
the B. F. Johnson Publishing Co., Richmond, Va. 


26 — W. 


390 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Yet still on every side we trace the hand 
Of Winter in the land, 

Save where the maple reddens on the lawn, 

Flushed by the season’s dawn; 

Or where, like those strange semblances we find 
That age to childhood bind, 

The elm puts on, as if in Nature’s scorn, 

The brown of autumn corn. 

As yet the turf is dark, although you know 
That, not a span below, 

A thousand germs are groping through the gloom, 
And soon will burst their tomb. 

In gardens you may note amid the dearth, 

The crocus breaking earth ; 

And near the snowdrop’s tender white and green, 

The violet in its screen. 

But many gleams and shadows need must pass 
Along the budding grass, 

And weeks go by, before the enamored South 
Shall kiss the rose’s mouth. 

Still, there’s a sense of blossoms yet unborn 
In the sweet airs of morn; 

One almost looks to see the very street 
Grow purple at his feet. 

At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, 

And brings, you know not why, 

A feeling as when eager crowds await 
Before a palace gate 

Some wondrous pageant ; and you scarce would start, 
If from a beech’s heart 

A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, should say, 
“Behold me ! I am May !” 


HENEY TIMEOD 


391 


Ah ! who could couple thoughts of war and crime 
With such a blessed time! 

Who in the west wind’s aromatic breath 
Could hear the call of Death ! 

Yet not more surely shall the Spring awake 
The voice of wood and brake, 

Than she shall rouse, for all her tranquil charms, 
A million men to arms. 

There shall be deeper hues upon her plains 
Than all her sunlit rains, 

And every gladdening influence around, 

Can summon from the ground. 

Oh ! standing on this desecrated mould, 

Methinks that I behold, 

Lifting her bloody daisies up to God, 

Spring kneeling on the sod, 

And calling, with the voice of all her rills, 

Upon the ancient hills 

To fall and crush the tyrants and the slaves 

Who turn her meads to graves. 


392 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


WILLIAM HENRY TIMROD 

William Henry Timrod was born in 1792, and died at 
Charleston in 1838. He was of German stock. He was a 
soldier in the war with the Seminole Indians. He edited a 
literary periodical and published a small volume of his 
poems. He was the father of Henry Timrod. 


TO TIME — THE OLD TRAVELER. 

They slander thee, Old Traveler, 

Who say that thy delight 
Is to scatter ruin, far and wide, 

In thy wantonness and might: 

For not a leaf that falleth 
Before thy restless wings, 

But in thy flight, thou changest it 
To a thousand brighter things. 

Thou passest o’er the battlefield 
Where the dead lie stiff and stark, 

Where naught is heard save the vulture’s scream, 
And the gaunt wolf’s famished bark ; 

But thou hast caused the grain to spring 
From the blood-enrichdd clay, 

And the waving corn-tops seem to dance 
To the rustic’s merry lay. 


Thou hast strewed the lordly palace 
In ruins o’er the ground, 

And the dismal screech of the owl is heard 
Where the harp was wont to sound ; 

But the self-same spot thou coverest 
With the dwellings of the poor, 

And a thousand happy hearts enjoy 
What one usurped before ! 


WILLIAM HENRY TIMROD 


393 


’Tis true thy progress layeth 
Full many a loved one low, 

And for the brave and beautiful 
Thou hast caused our tears to flow ; 
But always near the couch of death 
Nor thou nor we can stay, 

And breath of thy departing wings, 
Dries all our tears away ! 


394 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


WILLIAM HENRY TRESGOT 

William Henry Trescot was born at Charleston, Novem- 
ber 10, 1822, and died at Pendleton, South Carolina, March 
4, 1898. Having graduated at the College of Charleston in 
1840, he studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1843. 
For some time he engaged also in cotton planting at his 
home on Barnwell Island, and meanwhile began his pro- 
found studies in diplomatic history. In 1852 he held for a 
short time the position of secretary of the American legation 
in London, and for a few months in 1860 was assistant secre- 
tary of state. During the war he served his State for several 
terms in the legislature, held a staff position, and on behalf 
of the Confederate government conducted some negotiations 
with the agents of Great Britain and France. During the 
reconstruction period he was the special representative of 
his State at Washington. He then entered upon a brilliant 
diplomatic career, in the course of which he served as counsel 
for the United States on the Halifax fishery commission in 
1877, as plenipotentiary to China for the revision of treaties 
in 1880, as special envoy to Columbia in reference to the 
Panama Canal in 1881, as plenipotentiary with General 
Grant to negotiate a treaty with Mexico in 1882-1883, and as 
a delegate in the international American conference at Wash- 
ington in 1889-1890. From 1884 till his death he practised 
law in the capital, frequently acting as counsel against 
foreign governments in private cases. 

Trescot’s principal publications include : A Few Thoughts 
on the Foreign Policy of the United States, 1849 ; The Diplo- 
macy of the Revolution, 1852; Letter to Senator Butler on 
the Diplomatic System of the United States, 1853; An 
American View of the Eastern Question, 1854; The Diplo- 
matic History of the Administrations of Washington and 
Adams, 1857 (dedicated to Edward Everett of Massachu- 
setts) ; Address before the South Carolina Historical Society, 


WILLIAM HENRY TRESCOT 


395 


1859; Memorial of General Stephen Elliott, 1866; The Posi- 
tion and Course of the South, 1860; Memorial of General 
Pettigrew, 1870. 

DIPLOMATS OF THE REVOLUTION. 

(From Diplomacy of the Revolution, 1852.) 

That a new nation should have been able at once to enter 
upon such a system is due of course much to circumstances ; 
but it is also and eminently due to the honesty, energy, and 
ability of its rulers. It is a proud thing in a nation’s history, 
to have done great things; but nobler still is it to do great 
things through great men. For then the highest ideas are 
embodied in the highest shapes: then principles which in 
general come home only to the student in his closet, to the 
philosopher in the enthusiasm of his speculations, become 
inspiring realities to the humblest citizen. They are identi- 
fied with names familiar to the schoolboy, and enshrined in 
the homely affections of a national heart. Then the glory 
which hangs about the past shines with no vague lustre, but 
is concentrated upon brows towards which the eyes of each 
rising generation are first directed with reverential admira- 
tion. And in that proud circle of famous warriors and great 
civilians which illustrates the history of the United States, 
none should stand in brighter light than the diplomatists 
of the revolution. They were, more particularly than any 
others, the representatives of the nation in perilous times. 
Far from home, unsustained by sympathy, their labors 
hidden from the public eye, surrounded by perplexities 
which none but themselves could fully know; simple men in 
the midst of courtly splendor, watched by ambassadors of old 
and haughty States, sometimes with jealousy, sometimes with 
hate, treated now with patronizing pity, then with super- 
cilious indifference, they held fast to their faith in their 
country. They sustained their country’s fame; they vindi- 
cated their country’s interest; and through failure and suc- 
cess they spoke the same language of calm resolution. And 
as time passed on, and kingdom after kingdom recognized 
them in the fulness of their ambassadorial character, they 
kept the even tenor of their way undaunted by fortune, as 
they had been undismayed by difficulty. They negotiated 


396 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


the great treaties which secured the independence of their 
country with consummate ability. They used every honorable 
advantage with adroitness, they compromised no single 
interest through haste, they committed themselves to no 
exaggerated principles, and sacrificed nothing to temporary 
triumph. In the course of their long and arduous labors, 
there were occasional differences of opinion; and like all 
men, there were times when they failed in their purposes. 
But they worked together heartily for the common good, 
and even when circumstances too strong for their control 
opposed their wishes, they never despaired. The very variety 
of their character adapted itself to their necessities: and if 
the deferential wisdom of Franklin smoothed the difficulties 
of the French treaty, the energetic activity of Adams con- 
quered the obstacles to the alliance with Holland, and the 
conduct of the negotiations with England was guided by the 
inflexible firmness of Jay. Others there were whose fame 
is less, only because success did not crown their efforts. But 
through the whole period of this critical time — in all the 
communications between the government and its representa- 
tives, there is the same firm and temperate counsel. They 
knew that the Old World was watching their conduct to 
draw its inferences and govern its policy, and they spoke and 
acted without passion or petulance. Men of quiet dignity, 
tried faith, and large ability, their words savored of no inso- 
lent bravado, no licentious sentiment. They appealed to the 
great principles of international law for the warrant of their 
deeds and the guarantee of their claims. They felt that the 
right of independent national existence was a privilege not to 
be lightly claimed; and they entered into the old and ven- 
erable circle of nations in no vulgar spirit of defiant equality, 
but calmly, as conscious of right — resolutely, as conscious of 
strength — gravely, as conscious of duty. 


WILLIAM HENRY TRESCOT 


397 


CHARACTER OF CHARLES COTESWORTH PINCKNEY. 

(From The Diplomatic History of the Administration of Washington and Adams , 1 

1857 .) 

The government, however, found it absolutely necessary, 
in carrying out its policy, to have a minister in Paris who 
should sympathize with its sentiments, as well as represent 
its opinions; and Washington tendered the French mission 
to General Charles CotesAvorth Pinckney, of South Carolina, 
the brother of Thomas Pinckney, at that time minister to 
England. A better selection it would have been impossible 
to make. Representing an old and honored name, habituated 
to the exercise of that acknoAvledged influence which belongs 
to large fortune, established position, and individual ability, 
— an eminent jurist, an active and experienced soldier, a dis- 
tinguished member of the convention which framed the Con- 
stitution, — General Pinckney had worked faithfully and 
fruitfully in every department of his country’s service. To 
these claims upon public consideration, he added the charm 
of a character singularly frank, simple, and unselfish, and 
he was one of that small band of Revolutionary worthies 
who shared not only the confidence, but the Avarm personal 
affection, of their great chief. After the adoption of the 
Constitution, he had AvithdraAvn from the wider field of 
federal politics, and devoted his still vigorous energies to 
the interests of his family and State. General Washington 
made more than one effort to draw him into the national 
service; but he declined, on different occasions, the depart- 
ments both of Avar and state, and it Avas with great reluctance 
that he accepted the almost hopeless mission that was now 
pressed upon him. In a history like the present, it would be 
scarcely possible or proper to dwell at any length on the 
general character of the public men to whom reference is 
made, as it is concerned with their career simply in connec- 
tion with a special employment. But it is difficult to resist 
the strong desire to linger with affectionate regard in sight 
of characters so high, so pure, so “true and just in all their 
dealings,” as the two Pinckneys. Cultivated in their tastes 


^he author’s thanks are due Miss Katharine B. Trescot, of Pendleton, for the 
kind loan of this work of her distinguished father’s. 


398 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


and simple in their manners, placed by fortune where the 
exercise of a graceful and liberal hospitality was the habit 
of their daily life, and the assumption of high duties the 
natural consequence of their position, brave and gentle, free, 
with all the genuine frankness of the Southern nature, and 
yet grave as became earnest men in trying times, able, un- 
selfish, active, their success in life ivas free from all the 
feverish excitement of political adventure. They sought 
neither place nor power, but rose gradually from duty to 
duty, illustrating, in the fullness of their lives and services, 
the virtues of the class to which they belonged, and bearing, 
through a long and spotless career, 

“Without abuse 

The grand old name of gentleman.” 

At the date of his appointment, General Pinckney repre- 
sented, as fairly as possible, the real sentiment of the large 
conservative party in the country. His experience during 
the war, which, in South Carolina, assumed a peculiarly 
bitter and bloody character, guaranteed him against any 
extravagant British sympathies; and, in common with his 
native State, he felt a warm! and direct interest in the success 
of the French Revolution. But he was eminently an Ameri- 
can patriot ; and his correspondence, both public and private, 
is filled with indignant protests against the spirit which 
would subordinate the national policy to the interests or 
caprice of any foreign power. 


INSCRIPTION ON A CONFEDERATE MONUMENT . 1 

[NORTH side] 

This Monument 
Perpetuates the Memory 
of Those Who, 

True to the Instincts of their Birth, 
Faithful to the Teachings of their Fathers, 


iThis monument stands on the State House grounds in Columbia and was erected 
by the women of South Carolina as a memorial to the 20,000 South Carolinians 
who fell in battle. It was unveiled with imposing ceremonies on May 13, 1878, 
General John S. Preston delivering the oration. 


WILLIAM HENRY TRESCOT 


399 


Constant in their Love for the State, 
Died in the Performance of their Duty ; 
Who 

Have Glorified a Fallen Cause 
By the Simple Manhood of their Lives, 
the Patient Endurance of Suffering, 
and the Heroism of Death, 
and who 

in the Dark Hours of Imprisonment, 
in the Hopelessness of the Hospital, 
in the Short, Sharp Agony of the Field, 
Found Support and Consolation 
in the Belief 

that at Home they would not be Forgotten. 


[south side] 

Let the Stranger, 

Who May in Future Times 
Read this Inscription, 

Recognize that these were Men 
Whom Power Could Not Corrupt, 
Whom Death Could not Terrify, 
Whom Defeat Could not Dishonor, 
and Let their Virtues Plead 
for Just Judgment 
of the Cause in which they Perished. 

Let the South Carolinian 
of Another Generation 
Remember 

That the State Taught Them 
How to Live and How to Die, 

And that from Her Broken Fortunes 
She has Preserved for Her Children 
the Priceless Treasure of their Memories, 
Teaching all who May Claim 
The Same Birthright 
that Truth, Courage and Patriotism 
Endure Forever. 


400 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


Trescot prepared an inscription for a third face of the 
monument, but there was not room for it. This epitaph was 
as follows : 


Those for whom they died 
Inscribe on this Marble 
The solemn record of their sacrifice 
The perpetual gratitude of the State they served 
The undying affection of those 
Whose lives 

The separation of death 
Has shadowed with an Everlasting Sorrow 
Scattered over the battle fields of the South 
Buried in Remote and Alien Graves 
Dying unsoothed by the touch 
of familiar and household hands, 

Their names are graven here 
To recall 

To their Children and Kinsmen 
How worthily they lived 
How nobly they died 
And in what tender reverence 
Their memory survives. 


MARY SCRIMGEOUR WHITAKER 


401 


MARY SCRIMGEOUR WHITAKER 

Mary Sgrimgeour Whitaker was born in Beaufort Dis- 
trict, South Carolina, in 1820, but early in life removed to 
Sumter District. Her father was the Rev. Samuel Furman, 
and her mother, whose maiden name was Scrimgeour, was of 
Scotch descent. After a thorough elementary education had 
been given her at home, she was taken by her parents with 
two younger brothers to Edinburgh, at that time one of the 
literary centers of Europe. Into this society she was received 
with cordiality and made the acquaintance of many cele- 
brated philosophers and litterateurs. Here too she met her 
first husband, John Miller, a distinguished young advocate of 
the Scottish bar, whom she married in 1837. She accom- 
panied him immediately to Nassau in the West Indies, where 
he had been commissioned attorney-general. In three months 
he fell a victim to yellow fever then raging in the Bahamas, 
and his widow returned to her father’s home in South Caro- 
lina. In 1849 she married Daniel K. Whitaker, editor of the 
Southern Quarterly Review. 

A volume of her miscellaneous poems was published in 
1850, which included “The Creole,” “Palenque,” “The 
Flower, the Star, the Rill,” “The Indian Isles,” “The 
Orphan,” “Mrs. Hemans,” “The Hour of Death,” “Spring 
and Hope,” “Death, the Universal Lot,” “The Bridal Eve,” 
“The Stranger’s Grave,” “Zeola,” “Flowers of the Forest,” 
“Mourn Not for Her,” “Spring,” “Inez,” “Solitude,” and 
“Carolan’s Legend.” She was the author also of a novel 
entitled Albert Hastings, published in 1868, and of numer- 
ous sketches of Southern life and scenery which appeared 
in Godey’s, Graham’s, Arthur’s and Sartain’s Magazines. 


402 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


THE FLOWER, THE STAR, THE RILL. 

I looked on Spring’s first budding flower, 
Scarce seen amid a dewy shower, 

Half hid in vernal leaves, .yet fair, 

And shedding odors on the air ; 

And then I thought, ’twould pass away, 
’Twould droop and die at close of day. 

When evening’s star mild beauty shed, 

And glittered o’er the mountain’s head, 

I loved its gentle beam to view, — 

A drop of gold ’mid heaven’s deep blue: 

A dark cloud rose, and hid its ray, 

Its beauty failed, — it died away. 

The flashing rill, whose blue course wound, 
Freshening yon verdant mead around, 

Has ceased to flow, — the summer’s sun 
Dried up its source, — its race is run : 

No more it sparkles in the ray, — 

’Tis with the lost, — the past-away. 

The rose must die, — ’tis beauty’s doom ; 

The evening star must sink in gloom ; 

The rill must fail before the sun, 

And in its bed forget to run. 

Like flower, like star, like rill, must we 
Soon pass away, — soon cease to be! 


SAMUEL WILDS 


403 


SAMUEL WILDS 

Samuel Wilds was born in Darlington District, March 4, 
1775, and died near Oheraw, March 9, 1810. He was so poor 
that he had not a pair of shoes until he was eighteen years of 
age. His love of learning is illustrated by the following 
anecdote narrated by a friend. He was about to engage in a 
pitched battle with other boys, but being dissuaded, a foot- 
race for a wager was proposed as a substitute. Young Wilds 
was the victor, and the money thus won was applied for the 
purchase of a Latin grammar. In 1798 he married Elizabeth 
DeWitt, daughter of a gentleman who was active in the 
Revolution and honored for his domestic virtues and stern 
integrity. At the age of twenty-six he was elected a member 
of the legislature, and two years later was chosen, without a 
dissenting vote, solicitor of the northern circuit. Before he 
was thirty years of age he was elected a judge. In five years 
he obtained a reputation which a long life seldom earns. He 
was young, eloquent, learned, polite, and energetic, and held 
the scales of justice to the admiration of all. His early death 
made South Carolina weep from her mountains to her sea- 
board. Besides the famous Sentence pronounced upon John 
Slater, Judge Wild’s eloquent and impressive address in 
sentencing John Tollison to death for the murder of John 
Mathis in March, 1809, and an address to the grand jury of 
Abbeville in March, 1807, are preserved in Bishop Gregg’s 
History of the Old Cheraws. 

SENTENCE OF JOHN SLATEE. 

(From O’Neall’s 1 Bench and Bar of South Carolina, 1859.) 

John Slater! 

You have been convicted by a jury of your country for 
the wilful murder of your own slave ; and I am sorry to say, 


a John Belton O’Neall was born at Newberry, South Carolina, April 10, 1793, and 
died there December 17, 1863. His parents were of Irish descent and were Qua- 
kers in belief. He attended the village school and worked in his father’s store for 


404 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


the short, impressive, uncontradicted testimony on which 
that conviction was founded, leaves but too little room to 
doubt its propriety. 

The annals of human depravity might be safely challenged 
for a parallel to this unfeeling, bloody, and diabolical trans- 
action. 

You caused your unoffending, unresisting slave, to be 
bound hand and foot, and by a refinement in cruelty, com- 
pelled his companion, perhaps the friend of his heart, to 
chop his head with an axe, and to cast his body, yet con- 
vulsing with the agonies of death, into the water ! And this 
deed you dared to perpetrate in the very harbor of Charleston, 
within a few yards of the shore, unblushingly, in the face of 
open day. Had your murderous arm been raised against 
your equal, whom the laws of self-defence and the more effica- 
cious laws of the land unite to protect, your crime would not 
have been without precedent and would have seemed less 
horrid. Your personal risk would at least have proved, that 
though a murderer you were not a coward. But you too 
well knew that this unfortunate man, whom chance had 
subjected to your caprices, had not, like yourself, chartered 
to him by the laws of the land the same rights of nature; 
and that a stern but necessary policy had disarmed him of 
the rights of self-defence. Too well you knew that to you 
alone he could look for protection, and that your arm alone 
could shield him from oppression or avenge his wrongs ; yet 
that arm you cruelly stretched out for his destruction. 

The counsel who generously volunteered his services in 
your behalf, shocked at the enormity of your offence, 
endeavored to find a refuge, as well for his own feelings as 
for those of all who heard your trial, in a derangement of 
your intellect. Several witnesses were examined to establish 


thirteen years, then went to South Carolina College, where he graduated with 
honors in 1812. In 1813 he taught in the Newberry Academy, and after six months 
read law in the office of John Caldwell. In 1813 he served as judge advocate of 
State troops in a camp of instruction. In 1816 he was sent to the Legislature, 
and after two defeats, was returned .from 1822 to 1828, being speaker during the 
last two terms. In 1825 he was elected major-general of militia. From 1828 till 
his death he served successively as associate judge and judge of the court of 
appeals, and the court of errors. He was the author of Annals of Newberry, 1858, 
Bench and Bar of South Carolina, 1859, The Drunkard’s Looking Glass, etc. 


SAMUEL WILDS 


405 


this fact ; but the result of their testimony, it is apprehended, 
was as little satisfactory to his mind as to those of the jury 
to whom it was addressed. I sincerely wish this defence 
had proved successful ; not from any desire to save you from 
the punishment which awaits you, and which you so richly 
merit, but from the desire of saving my country from the 
foul reproach of having, in its bosom, so great a monster. 

From the peculiar situation of this country, our fathers 
felt themselves justified in subjecting to a very slight punish- 
ment him who murders a slave. Whether the present state 
of society requires a continuation of this policy, so opposite 
to the apparent rights of humanity, it remains for a subse- 
quent Legislature to decide. Their attention ere this would 
have been directed to this subject, but, for the honor of 
human nature, such hardened sinners as yourself are rarely 
found to disturb the repose of society. The grand jury of 
this county, deeply impressed with your daring outrages 
against the laws of both God and man, have made a very 
strong expression of their feelings on the subject to the 
Legislature, and from the wisdom and justice of that body, 
the friends of humanity may confidently hope to see this 
blackest in the catalogue of human crimes pursued by appro- 
priate punishment. 

In proceeding to pass the sentence which the law provides 
for your offence, I confess I never felt more forcibly the 
want of power to make respected the laws of my country, 
whose minister I am. 

You have already violated the majesty of those laws. You 
have properly pleaded the local law, under which you stand 
convicted, as a justification of your crime. You have held 
that law in one hand and brandished your axe in the other, 
impiously contending that the one gave a license to the unre- 
strained use of the other. 

But though you will go off unhurt in person, by the present 
sentence, expect not to escape with impunity. Your bloody 
deed has set a mark upon you which I fear the good actions 
of your future life will not efface. You will be held in abhor- 
rence by an impartial world, and shunned as a monster by 
every honest man. Your unoffending posterity will be visited 
for your iniquity, by the stigma of deriving their origin from 


27— W. 


406 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


an unfeeling murderer. Your days, which will be but few, 
will be spent in wretchedness, and if your conscience be not 
steeled against every virtuous emotion — if you be not entirely 
abandoned to hardness of heart — the mangled, mutilated 
corpse of your murdered slave will ever be present in your 
imagination, obtrude itself into all your amusements, and 
haunt you in the hours of silence and repose. 

But, should you disregard the reproaches of an offended 
world — should you hear with callous insensibility the gnaw- 
ings of a guilty conscience — yet remember that an awful 
period is fast approaching, and with you it is close at hand, 
when you must appear before a tribunal whose want of 
power can afford you no prospect of impunity — when you 
must raise your bloody hands at the bar of an impartial, 
omniscient Judge. 

Remember, I pray you remember, whilst you yet have 
time, that God is just, and that His vengeance will not sleep 
for ever. 


ELIZA WILKINSON 


407 


ELIZA WILKINSON 

Eliza Wilkinson was born in St. Paul’s Parish, South 
Carolina, February 7, 1757. She was the daughter of Francis 
Yonge, Sr. (d. November 4, 1780), and Sarah Clifford, and 
the granddaughter of Hon. Robert Yonge (d. December 4, 
1751), associate justice of South Carolina, 1739-1744. Her 
first husband was a Mr. Wilkinson, who died previous to the 
Revolution ; her second was Peter Porcher. Glimpses of the 
life of this beautiful and high-spirited woman are given in 
her “Letters,” twelve of which were arranged from the orig- 
inal manuscript by Mrs. Caroline Howard Gilman, and pub- 
lished in New York in 1839. These were written during 
the invasion and the occupation of Charleston by the British 
near the close of the Revolution, and were transcribed by 
her in a neat, feminine hand into a blank, quarto book. 
There are still in existence in Charleston thirteen of Mrs. 
Wilkinson’s unpublished letters, which were written after 
the Revolution. They contain her philosophy of life, and 
discuss her own and her friends’ beaux, but are of no his- 
torical value. Her letters record her experiences both grave 
and gay in exciting times, and possess a charmingly simple 
and picturesque style, that reveals the author’s delightful 
personality. She was an ardent patriot, and was endowed 
with a keen sense of humor. 1 

A FIRE AT THE ASSEMBLY . 2 

To Miss M P r. 

March 6th. ’83. 

And why did I not get a line from you by Mrs. 

Osborne? I expected more, much more than one line! but 
expectation prov’d vain in this, as in many other Cases. 


x Most of the above biographical data was kindly furnished the author by Mr. 
Wilmot D. Porcher, of Charleston. 

2 One of the thirteen unpublished Letters of Eliza Wilkinson, kindly furnished for 
publication in this volume by Mr. Wilmot D. Porcher. 


408 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


However, I dare say your reason for not writing must be a 
good one, I’ll take it for granted — shall I? I’ll tell you 
why — I hate Tyranny in ev’ry shape — therefore it shan’t, 
by a softer name, creep into our friendly Intercourse : so you 
may write when Time, Opportunity, Circumstance, and 
Inclination make it convenient — do you hear? “or d’ye see?” 

— as a certain somebody says — and I’ll do the same. to 

tell you a truth, my dear Mary, my scribbling vein is greatly 
abated, and I take but very little pleasure in my Pen : — nay 
sometimes I’m so provok’d and out of conceit with some of 
my scrawls, that what has employ’d me for days and weeks, 
(that is the leisure hours of those days and Weeks) by Way 
of Amusement or practice, I make a bonfire of, and call 
myself a thousand Idiots, and other hard names, for attempt- 
ing what won’t bear my own examination when done, and to 
whisper you a secret — it’s sometimes a doubt with me 
whether I’m possess’d with Common Sense — you’ll say I’m 
very much humbled ! — Why yes, I am so — some late Incidents 
have made me look about me: and I begin to fear I’m half 
a-fool ! O ! horrid ! — but why this hesitation in pronouncing 
myself one, and the acclamation in doing it ! — I will proclaim 
it to you : but prithee don’t you proclaim it to the World; 
let them find it out by their learning and penetration if they 
an’t allready. I intend to keep a “Still Tongue” for the 
future, and try if that will make a “wise head” ; for upon my 
Word it’s a very so-so one at present, it’s quite bewilder’d. 
But do you know your Eliza had like to’ve made her Exit in 

a flame! ’fcis true. I must needs go to Town, to play off 

a few Airs at the Assemblys ! the Important day arriv’d, and 
there was such powdering ! and frizzing ! Curling ! and dress- 
ing! — Well — after we were prank’d off, and each admir’d 
the others head-dress &c &c — away we went, three of us in 

Mrs. G n’s Carriage, the Postilion was a little or so (a 

great deal, rather) and we were whirl’d along at a great rate; 
I expected ev’ry minute to’ve been cast away, but contrary 
to expectation, we got to the Room safe, it was finely Illu- 
minated, and the Musick play’d sweetly, so sweetly that I 
cou’d not keep my feet still; it Inspired me with a Strong 
inclination for dancing; I promis’d myself some agreeable, 
happy hours. — but ah ! how precarious and fleeting are all 


ELIZA WILKINSON 


409 


sublinary enjoyments! there was but two minuets danc’d 
and the third begun; when the Gentlemen came and advis’d 
us to quit the Room, for the house was on fire, and the 
Assembly was Immediately broke up, and away we scam- 
per’d; powder’d Beaus & Bells huddl’d away; and left our 
Spacious, Elegant Room to consuming fire: which soon 
reduc’d it to dust and ashes. Ah! how fallen! — I stood for 
hours in the Balcony of a house at some distance, gaz’d, 
moraliz’d and made a thousand reflections on the blazing 
spectacle which was so conspicuously exhibited. I won’t 
waste paper by telling you what my reflections, were, — your 
own Imagination will present them sufficiently, — and I pay 
myself a Compliment in that too. I left Chas. Town two 
days after, and all the smart Beaus ; to visit your Ladyship ; 

expecting to find Mr. F d at home with horses to convey 

me to you; but I have neither seen, or heard from him. a 
thoughtless, Inconsiderate Mortal ! is it thus he keeps 
appointments? You need not expect me now, for I have 
made so many attempts to come and see you, and fail’d in 
ev’ry one of them, that I won’t make another ’till I get horses 

of my own ; and I don’t know when that will be. I shall 

send this to Miss Williamson, with a request that she will 
forward it to you; for I don’t know how else you’ll get it; 
I see nobody at this Solitary Isle. I hope you enjoy health, 
and have recover’d your spirits; let me hear that you have 
by the next next Opportunity. I had a deal to write you; 
but as I’m told there are some Persons who make it a point 
to open my letters, I write nothing but what they may see. — 

Farewell, my dear Mary, present my love, and ev’ry 

good wish to your Mama. I wish you all happiness — once 
more 


Adieu. 


Eliza W. 


410 


THE WRITERS OF SOUTH CAROLINA 


LEROY F. YOUMANS 1 

Leroy F. Youmans was born at Lawtonville, Hampton 
County, S. C., November 14, 1834, and died at Columbia, 
S. C., December 3, 1906. He graduated at the South Carolina 
College in 1852, and was admitted to the bar in 1856. 
Throughout the civil war he served in the Confederate army 
as a lieutenant of cavalry. From 1866 to 1868 he held the 
office of solicitor of the Southern Circuit. In 1872 his law 
office was removed from Edgefield to Columbia, where he 
practiced his profession until his death. In the campaign of 
1876 he took an active part in support of the Hampton ticket. 
He was the leading counsel in the protracted litigation which 
preceded Hampton’s induction into office, and as attorney- 
general from 1877 to 1882 prosecuted those who had laid 
schemes to defraud the State, defended his fellow-citizens on 
trial before the United States Court for alleged political 
offenses, and represented the State in the grave and complex 
questions which came before the Supreme Court of the 
United States. In 1885 President Cleveland appointed him 
attorney for the district of South Carolina. All these posi- 
tions he filled with consummate ability and rendered services 
which will perpetuate his name in the annals of the State. 
In 1905 he was appointed assistant to the attorney-general, 
and on the death of Mr. U. X. Gunter, in 1906, succeeded 
to that office for the third time, thus rounding a public career 
remarkable alike in the extent and the quality of his services. 

General Youmans was a great statesman, jurist and advo- 
cate. In the combined attributes of learning, eloquence, and 
brilliancy, he was regarded preeminent among the men of his 
generation. He not only excelled in the extent and accuracy 
of his legal knowledge, but he was a classical scholar and 


ir Fhe author’s thanks are due Mr. John S. Reynolds for the data embodied in the 
above sketch. 


LEROY F. YOU MANS 


411 


polished orator, fully the peer of Preston, Hayne, and 
McDuffie. 1 


A TRIBUTE TO HAMPTON. 

(From an Oration delivered at the Centennial Celebration of South Carolina 
College, January 10, 1905.) 

Hampton was with us and of us until in his 85th year 
he was called to his rest in 1902, amid the tears of the South ; 
and the bronze equestrian statue of him which the State is 
erecting will recall him to us as he rode in the flesh through 
our streets. He was a large man physically, intellectually 
and morally, of broad and generous proportions in all these 
regards. He had 

“That brawn and muscle both of frame and mind 
So potent in affairs of human kind,” 

with that iron in his blood, out of which are made the mighty 
hunters before the Lord and the rulers of men. His pursuits 
and pleasures were all simple and natural, and though his 
tastes were scholarly and cultured and his familiarity with 
the classics and the well of English undefiled of the older 
writers excited the admiration of the most accurate littera- 
teurs, yet his delight always was to be in the great woods and 
forests of nature. 

Woodcraft seemed an instinct in him. Of the men of his 
time in his status of life, he was the best woodsman, the best 
fisherman, the best hunter, the best rider, the best shot. 

After graduating with distinction in the college, in which 
he afterwards endowed a scholarship, he entered upon the 
tranquil yet active operation of a very large landowner and 
slaveholder, and was conspicuous among those Southern 
planters who made out of their negro slaves “the finest body 
of agricultural and domestic laborers that the world has ever 
seen, and elevated them in the scale of natural existence to 
such a height as to cause them to be deemed fit for admission 
into the charmed circle of American freedom, and to be 


x In The State of Dec. 6, 1906, will be found an eloquent memorial address on 
General Youmans by Dr. Edward S. Joynes of the University of South Carolina. 


412 


THE WRITERS OP SOUTH CAROLINA 


clothed with the rights and duties of American citizenship.” 

In the agitation preceding the war, he was never for violent 
counsels, but when the fatal die was cast, and South Caro- 
lina called on her sons to redeem the pledges she had made, 
in his ow r n words, spoken simply, historically, without osten- 
tation, “I pledged my life, my fortune, and my sacred honor, 
and shot and shell and steel have left their marks to show 
how I kept that word.” 

Though he served his State with distinction in both 
branches of her general assembly, as governor, and United 
States senator, his services there will never attract such 
attention as his career in the war in all the grades from 
colonel to lieutenant-general, of which it would be superero- 
gation to say a word, and as his services in the redemption of 
the State from the domination which followed in the wake 
of reconstruction, of which it is impossible to speak too 
highly. 

Well might Lucius Lamar say, “It was largely through the 
efforts of her lion-hearted Hampton that South Carolina was 
restored to her proud position of dignity and equality in the 
Union.” In that fearful crisis he was the leader, and showed 
every quality of leadership. You remember that at the battle 
of Ivry Henry of Navarre said to the princes of the blood, 
“We are all Bourbons, but follow me today, and I will show 
you that I am your elder brother.” 

We followed Hampton, he showed us that he was our elder 
brother, and led us to victory. His bravery was never 
betrayed into rashness, his prudence was never tinged with 
timidity. His long, eventful life was closed with the prayer : 
“All my people, black and white, God bless them all.” He 
was a man upon whom “every god had set his seal, to give 
the world assurance of a man.” The bronze of his statue may 
moulder and fade, but he will live forever in the heart of 
redeemed, regenerated and disenthralled South Carolina. 
The careers of Hugh S. Legard and Wade Hampton are part 
and parcel of the historical significance of the South Carolina 
College. 


INDEX 


413 


INDEX 


A. 

Abbeville County, 132. 

Adger, John B., 51, 71. 

Aiken, Janies, 38. 

Allston, Joseph B., 16, 37, 85. 
Allston, R. F. W., 85. 

Allston, Washington, 16, 60, 75, 89. 
Anderson, T. B., 32, 108. 

Archdale, John, 67. 

Arnold, M., 22. 

Ashe, Thomas, 67. 

Austin, Henry, 17, 21. 

Avary, Myrta L., 7. 

B. 

Babcock, J. W., 4. 

Bachman, John, 71, 73. 

Bachman, Katherine R., 71. 

Bacon, James T., 75. 

“Badwell”, 85. 

Baker, Julia A., 38. 

Baldwin, James Mark, 75. 

Ball, Caroline A., 16, 135. 

Barham, Jane, 291. 

Barnes, Annie, 63. 

Barnwell, Joseph W., 5, 351. 
Barrow, Frances E., 60. 

Bates, Mary, 112. 

“Beaufain, Adrian”, 15. 

Benjamin, Park, 14. 

Bennett, ./ohn, 63. 

Black, Sallie A. M., 40. 

Blue, Kate Lilly, 63. 

Bond, O. J., 63. 

Bowen, Mrs. C. C., 223. 

Bowen, Nathaniel, 52. 

Brisbane, Abbott H., 63. 

Brooks, U. R., 72. 


Brown, Joseph B., 96. 

Bruns, John Dickson, 15, 16, 97. 
Buist, George, 52, 127, 141. 

Bryan, E. B., 14. 

Bullen, Mary L., 77, 241. 

Butler, Matthew C., 197. 

C. 

Caldwell, James C., 229. 

Caldwell, Howard H., 16, 32, 104. 
Caldwell, James F., 69. 

Calhoun, John C., 43, 71, 83, 111, 
192, 327, 339, 372. 

Capers, Ellison, 52, 69. 

Capers, Henry D., 63. 

Capers, William, 52. 

Carlisle, James H., 51. 

Carlisle, W. B., 15. 

Carroll, B. R., 66. 

Carwile, James B., 72. 
Cash-Shannon Duel, 139. 

Catawba Indians, 150. 

Catholic Standard , 144. 

Chalmers, George, 66. 

Chanler, Isaac, 52. 

Chapin, Sallie, 63. 

Chapman, John A., 38, 70. 
Charleston, 72, 77, 102, 282, 385, 387. 
Charleston Magazines, 11. 
Charleston Medical Journal , 97. 
Charletson School, The, 2. 
Cheesborough, Esther B., 34. 
“Chesney, Esther”, 129. 

Chestnut, Mary B., 71. 

Cheves, Langdon, 13, 50, 269. 
Chichester, C. E., 15. 

Chicora, The , 14. 

Chicora , 175. 

Citadel, The, 39, 63, 135, 273. 


INDEX 


414 


Clapp, J. Milton, 14. 

Clarkson, Henry M., 39. 

Clay, Henry, 43. 

Clemson, Floride, 39. 

Clifford, Sarah, 407. 

Clinkscales, J. G., 63. 

Cobia, 52. 

Coker, James L., 69. 

Colcock, Charles J., 223. 

Colcock, F. Horton, 213. 

Colcock, Pattie L. H., 213. 

Coleman, M. W., 63. 

College of Charleston, 97, 125, 131, 
203, 273, 342. 

Columbia, 72. 

Columbia Register, 132. 

Columbia Theological Seminary, 282, 
308, 372. 

Columbia University, 259. 
Confederate Congress, 20. 
Confederate Dead, 345. 

Confederate Monument, 39S. 

Coogler, J. Gordon, 40. 

Cooke, Arthur B., 74. 

Cooper, Thomas, 4, 12, 80, 120. 
“Copse Hill”, 203. 

Cordozo, Jacob N., 72. 

Cotton Is King, 192. 

Cosmopolitan, The, 13. 

Courier , The Charleston , 13. 
Courtenay, Edward S., 127. 
Courtenay, James C., 125. 

Courtenay, William A., 17, 77, 125, 
283, 319, 378. 

Crafts, William, 16, 60, 127. 

Cralle, Richard R., 112. 

Crawford, W. H., 264. 

Cummings, St. James, 39. 

D. 

Dalcho, Frederick, 51, 67. 

Dana, William C., 39. 

Daniel, J. W., 62. 


Dargan, Clara V., 34, 129. 

Dargan, Edwin C., 52. 

Dargan, John J., 67, 70. 

Dargan, Olive T., 16, 30. 
Dartmouth College, 96. 

Davidson, James W., 5, 7, 135. 
Davis, John, 32, 131. 

Davis, Robert M., 132. 

Davis, Sarah Le C., 132. 

Dawson, Francis W., 138. 

Deas, Annie, 65. 

Deas, Fanny M., 63. 

De Bow, James D. B., 14, 75. 

De Bow's Review, 75, 269. 

De Fontaine, F. G., 71. 

De Leon, Edwin, 63, 72. 

De Leon, Thomas C., 63. 
della Torre, Thomas, 21. 

De Saussure, W. F., 303. 

Dickert, G. Augustus, 69. 

Dickinson College, 120. 

Dinnies, Anna P., 16, 24, 25, 144. 
Dismal Swamp, 108. 

“Drainfield”, 101. 

Drayton, John, 11, 65, 149. 
Drayton, William H., 65, 149. 

Du Bose, John W., 71. 

Duncan, Watson B., 70. 

Durant, Nannie M., 40. 

E. 

East, William, 39. 

Edgefield Advertiser, 229. 
Educational , The, 133. 

Elliott, Bishop, 52, 83, 155. 

Elliott, General, 395. 

Elliott, Professor, 12, 13, 61, 73, 240. 
Elliott, Sarah B., 61. 

Elzas, Barnett A., 70. 

Emory College, 265. 

England, John, 52. 

English, Ethel D., 291. 

Essayists of S. C., 72. 


INDEX 


415 


Farmer, Henry T., 39. 

Finley, Mrs. Washington, 5, 165. 
Fitz-Simons, Ellen M., 249. 

Flagg, J. B., 89. 

Floyd, J. W., 70. 

Ford, Arthur P., 72. 

Fordham, Mary W., 39. 

Ford, Marion J., 72. 

Fort Moultrie, 331. 

Foster, William B., 5. 

Fowler, Mary, 39. 

Fuller, Richard, 52. 

Furman, Samuel, 401. 

G. 

Gadsden, Christopher E., 27, 52, 323. 
Gaillard, Mary T., 60. 

Garden, Alexander, 52, 64. 

Garrett, T. H., 70. 

Gazette , South Carolina , 12, 60. 
Gervais, 52. 

Gibbes, Frances G., 34, 39. 

Gibbes, Robert W., 14, 67. 
Gildersleeve, Basil L., 15, 76. 
Gilman, Caroline H., 13, 16, 34, 60, 
65, 79, 165, 407. 

Gilman, Samuel, 165, 235. 

Girardeau, James L., 52. 

Glenn, Governor, 66. 

Glennie, Alexander, 52. 

Gonzales, Ambrose E., 63, 159, 173, 
263. 

Gonzales, N. G., 82, 173. 

Gonzales, Robert E., 40. 

Gonzales, William E., 159. 

Grayson, William J., 14, 71, 83, 175, 
Gregg, Alexander, 52, 67, 181. 

Green, Edwin L., 72, 75, 278. 

“Grey, Barton”, 342. 

Grimke, Thomas S., 12, 186. 

Gunter, U. X., 410. 

Gwyn, Laura, 39, 190. 



Hagood’s Brigade, 86. 

Hall, Robert P., 39. 

Hamilton, Gov., 115. 

Hammond, Joseph H., 48, 83, 101, 
192. 

Hammond, M. C. M., 70. 
Hampden-Sidney College, 266. 
Hampton, Wade, 50, 71, 197, 411. 
Hanckel, Thomas M., 52. 

Harby, Isaac, 60. 

Harper, William, 50, 303. 

Hart, Thomas, 60. 

Harvard, 89, 127. 

Hay, Charles C., 39, 213. 

Hay, Helen, 213. 

Hay, Peronneau, 83. 

Hay, Samuel T., 39, 215. 

Hayne, Paul H., 7, 15, 16, 17, 19, 22, 
36, 61, 83, 241, 377. 

Hayne, Robert Y., 45, 49, 71, 83, 203, 
216, 229, 278, 355. 

Henderson, E. P., 63. 

Henneman, John B., 76. 

Henry, Robert, 12, 14. 

Hewat, Alexander, 52, 65, 66. 
Heyward, James S., 40. 

Hilliard, Henry W., 60. 

Hireling and the Slave , The , 177. 
Historians of S. C., 64. 

Holbrook, John E., 73. 

Holland, Edward C., 39, 60. 

Holmes, Francis S., 73. 

Holmes, George S., 39. 

Holmes, Isaac E., 60. 

Home Journal , The , 203. 

Horne, Robert, 66, 73. 

Howe, George, 52, 69. 

Howe, W. B. W., 52. 

Howland, Edward, 75. 

Hoyt, James A., 82. 

Hudson, Joshua H., 72. 

Huger, Judge, 48. 


INDEX 


416 

Hughson, Shirley C., 75. 

Humphrey, 67. 

Hunter, Florella, 63. 

I. 

Ioor, William, 60. 

Indians of S. C., 72. 

Irving, John B., 15. 

Izard, Ralph, 65. 

J. 

Jackson, Henry, 13. 

James, William D., 71. 

Jameson, J. F., 112. 

Jamison, David F., 71. 

Jenkins, J. S., 112. 

Jervey, Theodore D., 62. 

Johnson, John, 70. 

Johnson, Joseph, 65. 

Johnson, Thomas Cary, 5, 308. 
Johnson, William, 65. 

Johnson, William B., 65, 71. 
Johnson, William H., 63. 

Jones, Cadwalader, 71. 

Joynes, Edward S., 76, 411. 

K. 

Kennedy, J. L., 71. 

Kennedy, Robert M., 70. 

King, Henry C., 223. 

King, Susan Petigru, 58, 223. 

King’s Mountain, Battle of, 104, 223. 
Kinlock, Francis, 73. 

Kirkland, Thomas J., 70. 

Knapp, Nathan P., 71. 

Knott, John D., 39. 

Kohn, August, 4, 75, 313, 327. 

Kohn, Mrs. August, 70. 

L. 

La Borde, Maximilian, 67, 229. 

Ladd, Joseph B., 39. 


La Fayette, 186. 

Lamar, Lucius, 412. 

Landrum, John G., 71. 

Landrum, J. B. O., 70. 

“Lang Syne”, 269. 

Lathan, Robert, 70. 

Laurens, John, 64, 74. 

Laurens, Henry, 64, 233, 331. 
Lawson, John, 73. 

Le Conte, Joseph, 132. 

Lee, A. Markley, 5, 235. 

Lee, Mary E., 14, 16, 34, 235. 

Lee, William, 235. 

LegarS, Hugh S., 10, 12, 13, 26, 49, 
50, 77, 83, 159, 203, 240, 249, 254, 
266, 303, 327, 412. 

Legar6, James M., 15, 16, 26, 83, 249. 
Leverett, Charles E., 71. 

Lewisohn, Ludwig, 4, 7, 12, 21, 24, 
26, 32, 40, 68, 70, 76, 127, 131. 
Lieber, Francis, 4, 14, 80, 259. 
Literature in South Carolina, 4. 
Living Writers of the South, 5. 
Logan, John H., 67, 263. 

Longstreet, Augustus B., 4, 14, 57, 
83, 265, 266. 

Lowndes, William, 71. 

Lynch, Patrick N., 14, 15, 52. 

M. 

Maclean, Clara D., 63. 

McBryde, James, 157. 

McCalla, 52. 

McCants, Elliott C., 61. 

McCord, Louisa S., 34, 35, 79, 269, 
303. 

McCrady, Edward, 11, 12, 273. 
McCrady, John, 40. 

McDowell, Silas, 60. 

McDuffie, George, 4, 217, 229, 278. 
McGhee, Zach, 63, 133. 

McKinley, Carlyle, 28, 77, 83, 282. 
McMahan, John J., 5. 


INDEX 


417 


Magazines of Charleston, 11. 

Magill, Samuel D., 72. 

Magnolia Cemetery, 388. 

Magnolia , The, 14. 

Manassas, Battle of, 156. 

Manigault, Gabriel, 63. 

Manly, Basil, 52. 

Manly, John M., 76. 

Manly, Louise, 76, 269. 

Manning, Richard I., 51, 373. 
Manning, Wade H., 72. 

Marion, Francis, 68, 357, 368, 412. , 
Marion County, 70. 

“Marchmont, John”, 62. 

Marks, Elias, 37, 291. 

Marlboro County, 70. 

Martin, Isabelle D., 71. 

Martin, Margaret M., 39, 52. 
Martin, William M., 39, 296. 

Maxcy, Jonathan, 71. 

Means, Celina E., 62. 

Means, J. H., 132. 

Meek, Alexander B., 14, 16, 37, 299. 
Mellish, Joan , 29, 346. 

Memminger, Christopher G., 67. 
Mercator, J. A., 40. 

Mercury, The Charleston, 13, 138. 
Meriwether, Colyer, 48, 69. 
Middleton, Arthur, 64, 74. 

Middleton, Henry A., 74. 

Middleton, N. R., 40. 

Miles, Charles R., 342. 

Miles, James W., 52. 

Miles, William P., 15, 16. 

Milligan, Dr., 66. 

Mills, Robert, 75. 

Mintzung, Julia C., 39. 

Mitten , William, 265. 

“Moina”, 144. 

Moise, Penina, 39. 

Moore, Andrew C., 72. 

Moore, Col., 67. 

Moore, Maurice E., 72. 

Mortimer, 14. 


Moses, Vivian M., 39. 

Moultrie, Fort, Battle of, 331. 
Moultrie, William, 64. 

Muench, F., 39. 

Murden, Eliza, 39. 

Murfree, M. N., 61. 

Murphy, Rosalie M., 39. 

N. 

Newberry County, 70, 72, 135, 404. 
Newberry College, 74. 

News and Courier, The, 4, 13, 15, 38, 
70, 76, 127, 132, 138, 139, 173, 282, 
342. 

Newton, J. C. C., 74. 

Nineteenth Century, The, 12, 15. 
Noble, 18. 

Nott, Henry J., 12, 59, 303. 

No tt, Josiah C., 73. 

Novelists of S. C., 53. 

Nullification, 117. 

O. 

Occasional Reviews, 13. 

Old Cheraws, 181. 

Oldmixon, J., 66. 

O’Neall, John B., 67, 403. 

Orangeburg County, 70. 

Orators of South Carolina, 40. 

Orion, The, 235. 

Orta-Undis, 249. 

Oxford University, 120. 

P. 

Palmer, Benjamin, 51, 71, 83, 308,. 
349. 

Pendleton, P. C., 14. 

Perry, Benjamin F., 71. 

“Personne”, 71. 

Petigru, James L., 12, 15, 28, 49, 71, 
85, 266, 313, 319, 377. 

Pettigrew, James J., 4, 74, 79, 319, 
395. 


418 


INDEX 


Phi Beta Kappa, 127. 

Pickens, Gov., 203. 

Pinckney, Charles, 50. 

Pinckney, Charles C., 50, 71, 79, 397. 
Pinckney, Eliza, 71. 

Pinckney, Gustavus M., 71, 112. 
Pinckney, Maria H., 79. 

Pinckney, Henry L., 50, 71. 
Pinckney, Thomas, 50, 71. 

Poets of South Carolina, 15. 
Poinsett, Joel R., 14, 74./ 
Poppenham, Miss, 70. 

Porcher, F. A., 14. 

Porcher, Francis P., 73. 

Porcher, Octavius T., 133. 

Porcher, Peter, 407. 

Porcher, Wilmot D., 407. 

Poyas, Catherine G., 16, 25, 33, 83, 
322. 

Poyas, Elizabeth A., 26, 74. 

Preston, John S., 398. 

Preston, William C., 269, 278, 303. 
Princeton, 149. 

Prioleau, P. G., 141. 

Purry, Jean P., 67. 

R. 

Rambler, The , 9, 14, 48. 

Ramsay, David, 11, 65, 71, 83, 144 
173, 331. 

Ramsay, Martha L., 33. 

Ravenel, H. E., 71. 

Ravenel, Harriott H., 71, 63. 
Ravenel, Henry W., 73. 

Reaves, Carrie M., 5. 

Reconstruction in S. C., 198, 286. 
“Redcliff”, 101. 

Reeves, Marion L., 60. 

Register and Review , The , 13. 

Reid, C. S., 63. 

Requier, Augustus J., 4, 16, 37, 336. 
Revolution, Diplomats of the, 395. 
Reynolds, John S., 198, 410. 


Rhett, Robert B., 44, 47, 50, 101, 339. 
Rice, Jr., James H., 40. 

Richards, Margaret A., 39. 

Rion, Margaret H., 5. 

Rion, Mary C., 75. 

Rivers, William J., 11, 67. 

Robinson, Stephen T., 63. 

Rosebud, The, 14, 165, 235. 

“Ruby”, 296. 

Russell, John, 15. 

Russell's Magazine , 15, 23, 53, 203, 
355, 377. 

Rutledge, Edward, 65. 

S. 

Salley, Jr., Alexander S., 5, 12, 13, 
15, 70, 76, 216, 355. 

Sams, Stanhope, 5, 62, 76, 343. 
Sapelo, 28, 283. 

Sass, George H., 16, 29, 37, 83. 
Schoolcraft, Mary H., 59. 

Scherer, James A. B., 74. 
Scotch-Irish in America, 69. 

Scott, E. J., 72. 

Seabrook, W. B., 63. 

Secession, 217. 

Selby, Julian A., 5, 72. 

Sellers, W. W.. 70. 

Seminole Indians, 299, 392. 

Sentinel, The, 265. 

Seville, Cathedral of, 319. 
Shackleford W. F., 144. 

Shand, Robert W., 28. 

Shelley, Percy B., 19. 

Shindler, Mary P., 39, 349. 

Shipp, Alfred M., 70. 

Sigourny, Mrs., 14. 

Simmons, James W., 13, 39, 351. 
Simmons, William H., 40, 63, 351. 
Simms, William G., 7, 13, 15, 16, 18, 
19, 32, 36, 53, 67, 354 
Simm's Magazine, 15. 

Sims, James M., 71. 


INDEX 


419 


"‘Singularity, Thomas”, 59. 

Slater, John, 403. 

Sloan, Annie L., 62. 

Smelt, Katherine E., 71. 

Smith, Samuel M., 174, 373. 

Smith, William W., 14. 

Smyth, Mrs. A. T., 70. 

Smyth, Thomas, 52. 

Snyder, Henry N., 71. 

Snowden, Yates, 5, 16, 32, 38, 85, 
131, 156. 

South Carolina College (See Uni- 
versity of South Carolina.) 

South Carolina Historical and Gene- 
ological Magazine, 85. 

South Carolina Historical Society, 
233. 

South Carolina Military Academy, 
(See The Citadel.) 

Southern Bivouac , 203. 

Southern Episcopalian, 156. 
Southern Field and Fireside, 29, 
129. 

Southern Literary Gazette, 13, 22. 
Southern Literary Journal, 14. 
Southern Literary Messenger, 15. 
Southern Patriot , The, 13. 

Southern Presbyterian , The 73, 308. 
Southern Quarterly Review, 14, 120, 
269, 372, 401. 

Southern Review, The, 12, 13, 151, 
240, 303. 

Southern Rose, The, 165, 235. 

South Western Magazine, 15. 
Spartanburg County, 20. 

Stanton, Frank L., 16, 31. 

State, The, 7, 132, 135, 156, 159, 
173, 174, 411. 

Stillman, Anna R., 60. 

Strickland, Theresa II., 60. 

Stuart, Mary, 106. 

Sumter, Fort, 85. 


T. 

“T. A.”, 66. 

Tallulah, 249, 253. 

Tatler, The, 5. 

Taylor, Alexander S., 74. 

Taylor, Mrs. Thomas, 70. 

Thomas, Frederick W., 370. 

Thomas, John P , 7, 135. 

Thomas, Jr., John P., 72. 

Thomas T. Gaillard, 70. 

Thompson, Hugh S., 282. 

Thompson, Maurice, 23. 

Thompson, Waddy, 70, 74. 
Thornwell, James H., 14, 48, 50, 
71, 83, 229, 308, 372. 

Ticknor, 203. 

Timrod, Henry, 7, 15, 16, 17, 24, 36, 
82, 83, 129, 203, 355, 377, 392. 
Timrod Memorial Association, 7, 17. 
Timrod’s Grave, 25, 29, 207, 287. 
Timrod, Wm. H., 40. 

Tory Raid in S. C., 181. 

Townsend, Belton O’N., 40. 

Traiteur, The, 13. 

Trent, Wm. P., 4, 14, 21, 24, 36, 44, 
68, 77, 355. 

Trescot, Katharine B., 5, 397. 
Trescot, Wm. H., 14, 65, 83, 155, 319, 
394. 

Tribune, New York f 17. 

Tucker, Beverley, 14. 

Tuckerman, H. T., 14. 

U. 

University of Alabama, 299. 
University of California, 132. 
University of Georgia, 266, 282, 299, 
308, 377. 

University of Mississippi, 265. 
University of North Carolina, 319. 
University of Pennsylvania, 120, 351. 
University of South Carolina 
(1801), 49, 72, 73, 76, 85, 132, 133, 


420 


INDEX 


135, 155, 197, 229, 259, 278, 303, 
313, 327, 372, 373, 404, 411. 
Ursulines, To The, 34, 166. 

V. 

Vedder, Charles S., 40. 

Verner, Philips, 74. 

Vigil, The , 13. 

Von Holst, H., 112. 

W. 

Waddel, Moses, 58, 71, 111, 240, 266, 
313. 

Wallace, David D., 69. 

Wardlaw, Patterson, 5. 

Waring, Malvina S., 61. 

War Poetry of the South, 5. 
Washington and Lee University, 51, 
69, 327. 

Watson, Edward J., 75. 

Weber, John L., 70. 

Weems, Mason L., 68. 

Wells, Edward L., 71. 

Wells, Helena, 60. 

Wells, William C., 73. 

Whitaker, Mary S., 34, 35, 401. 
Whitaker, Daniel K., 14. 

White, John B., 60. 


White, Henry A., 69, 70. 

Wilds, Samuel, 403. 

Williamsburg County, 72. 
Willington Academy, 240, 267, 278. 
Wilkinson, Eliza, 65, 165, 407. 
Wilson, John Lide, 40, 175. 

Wilson, J. Leighton, 74. 

Wilson, Robert, 40. 

Wilson, Samuel, 66, 73. 

Wingard, Emanuel L., 40. 
Winnshoro News and Herald, 132. 
Witherspoon, John, 331. 

Wofford College, 51, 296. 
“Woodlands”, 101, 354, 381. 
Woodrow, James, 5, 73. 
Woodward, G. A., 132. 

Workman, James, 60. 

Y. 

Yale, 111, 141, 151, 265. 

Yancey, William L., 71. 
‘Teamans’ Hall”, 322. 

Yemassee The, 357. 

Yonge, Francis, 64, 407. 

Yonge, Robert, 407. 

York County, 70. 

Youmans, Leroy F. 410. 

Young, Edward, 40. 

Young, Virginia D., 63. 



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